I hate you, too
by howveryfake
Summary: SEQUEL NOW UP: I HATE YOU EVEN MORE! High school AU. Joker/OC. Bit of drama, bit of horror, bit of lemons, bit of violence, bit of silliness. Sorry not sorry. R&R most welcome!
1. Chapter 1

"So, this is it", I sighed as I checked the classroom number yet again. I really did not want to enter into the wrong room on my first day. I am odd enough for these people as it is: a foreigner with a funny accent, too tall, not blonde enough, too snarky and my teeth are definitely not brilliantly white enough. Not to mention that my clothes were (while not old or ugly) not fashionable, and also, from the few interactions I took part in in the short time that I spend in the US till now, I truly have all the wrong ideas about equality, feminism, racism, and other -isms I didn't even know existed. We don't have this kind of -isms where I come from.

I try to put on my pleasant face as I enter the room. Turns out my pleasant face does not impress the teacher: his eyes quickly drop from my face to the lower regions of my body. I wear a tight black turtleneck and skinny jeans-I thought that was a decent enough look. Mr. Roberts, the maths teacher, takes his sweet time staring at my boobs and I feel the need to cross my arms over my chest, but I resist the urge and even place my hands on my waist. "There, look all you want, you old perv", I think defiantly as the last trace of smile disappears from my face and is replaced by a pretty hostile glare. He finally notices that we are in a very unequal and very long staring match and that the class fell silent in the meantime.

"Are you the new student?", he says.

"I am", I don't bother with being too polite towards this kind of person.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?", he asks my boobs.

I turn to the class and pray to God that my voice will not betray the slight feeling of fear that is creeping up inside of me.

"Hello. My name is Sonja. I come from Croatia.", I say and my voice stays calm enough.

"Any questions for your new classmate?", Mr. Roberts sounds bored already.

"Yeah!", a boy who is apparently also the class clown has to have his minute, "Any boyfriends back in Croatia?"

"A husband, three children, and a lover", I fire back before thinking. Oh God, I hope they'll understand that I was only joking?! Everybody's looking at me now and I see they're not really sure if I'm serious or not. My resting bitch face does not help either, of course, again my inability to show emotions with my face makes me look odd and detached. Maybe I should force a smile? Better not, a forced smile is a creepy smile.

"A-okay. Don't forget to write them all letters", Mr. Roberts smiles a bit ( _At least the perv gets me! How depressive, though_.), "Go find yourself a free seat."

There are two free seats in the entire classroom. One is in the first row. That one cannot do. I hate sitting in the first row. Any other seat will be better. The other free seat is in the last row. _Winner!_ As I go through the classroom, I notice a few odd looks, a few eyebrows risen, and even a whisper "Why would she go _there_?". And as I look who else sits in the back of the classroom, I realise there is some weird connection between where you sit in class and where you are in life. Another thing we don't have back in Croatia. Back home, nerds and shameless people sit in the front. Ordinary kids like me sit somewhere in the middle. Cool kids and sometimes ordinary but bored people sit in the back (for example, in most classes I used to sit in the middle. Math class and biology I spent in the last row reading magazines-I don't care much about maths and biology. The art class was the only that I loved but sat in the last row anyway-I couldn't get a better seat and no one would change seats for the entire school year!). Anyway, in the US, or at least in this particular high school in Gotham, it seems that if you are cool/rich/pretty, you sit in the front. If you're ordinary, you're in the middle. However, if you're a future (or present!) crackhead/mass murderer/nutcase, you got yourself the last row.

There were five seats in the last row: the first three were occupied by two guys and one girl, and one could see from a mile away they were either very high or very disturbed. One had a tattoo. _On his face._ In Croatia, a high school kid doesn't have a tattoo, like, _anywhere_. The free seat was of course next to the tattoo-faced kid, and on the other side of the free seat was some blonde-haired guy. Tall, from what I could gather. Very cute, although a bit brooding. And of course, with huge scars on his face, one on each cheek.

Nobody from the last row-division spares me a look. Great. Lucky me. This is going to be one really long class. Who am I kidding? It's going to be a very long _year_.

For the first time of my life, I really pay attention in math class; I simply have nothing better to do. I also want to have good grades, I don't want to come back home after my one year in the US and show nothing for it. However, it turns out that the US and Croatia have at least this one thing in common: math sucks in both countries, and – as always – I find myself struggling with all the x's and y's and graphs and whatnot. Tattoo kid on my right doesn't even try-his notebook is full of drawings of Satan or some other morbid thing. Scarface on my left seems to be keeping up pretty well, he's already done all the problems we were supposed to solve today, and it seems he's made some additional notes and remarks of his own. He catches me peeking and shots me a cold glare. Again, I react too fast and _wink at him._ He continues to glare at me but also adds a heavy dose of disgust into the glare, so I finally do the smart thing and avert my eyes. I am sometimes so stupid, even I can't believe it.

…

And my awkwardness and slight stupidity sure do not leave me in any of the next classes. I feel a unique combination of stress and boredom, and it makes me blurt out the craziest things. For instance, after maths, I had German class. I told them my name was Sonja Albertina and I was a refugee from Kyrgyzstan. I got a few compassionate nods and a confused smile from one of the last row crackheads who had math with me just minutes ago. After that, I had history class and told them my hobbies include wrestling and crochet. I don't really know what got into me, it must be the nervousness or something. The last row is practically reserved for me.

Recess is a special kind of hell. I don't recognize half of the food so I settle for a banana, an apple and apple juice. My tray looks somewhat ridiculous. Then of course comes the question of where I should sit. It seems like my entire day revolves around that stupid question. The idea of just joining a group of people who already occupied a table is more than mortifying, so I give up on trying to meet all those groups of athletes, cool kids, pretty girls, bff's, neighbours, whoever-you know, the guys who always sit together. I need to find either an empty table or a big table occupied by only one or two people who are willing to ignore and be ignored. I spot the nutcase table (tattoo faced guy is there with his pierced girlfriend, along with other equally strange people), but it is full. Not that I am rushing towards it.

And then I see the only empty table. Well, not really empty. Scarface guy is there. He is looking at me already when I spotted him and his table. He knows I am searching for a place to sit. I mean, I stand there with this moronic lost look on my face. I meet his eyes but instantly give up the idea of trying to join him. He's shooting me this really frightening look and I resist the urge to do anything stupid, like winking at him or sticking out my tongue. I glance at my tray instead. I can eat my fruit in the hallway. Ok then.


	2. Mob advice is the best advice

Jack Napier is 16 years old and he does not like to go to school, but not for the reasons because of which your average teenager doesn't like school. He does not think school's boring. No. Jack likes history, he's good at maths and chemistry, he likes to read, he even likes poetry and arts.

There are two reasons why he does not like going to school.

The first reason is that he feels his time could be better spent doing what he not only likes, but _loves_. Jack _loves_ committing crimes. He is only sixteen, and he still isn't caught, not even for a minor offence, and still he managed to do it all already: breaking and entering, destruction of both private and public property, bodily injuries of all kinds, robberies, kidnappings, and even the big one-homicide. A number of them, actually. The only one he rejected to do was rape - that was not his cup of tea.

Most of his work was done in collaboration with various low-ranging mobsters, who simply _adore_ the psycho kid who does all these things for _fun_ (although he got paid, too). They simply reassign him to do jobs they are supposed to do, and the beauty of it is that even if he gets caught, he is a minor, so he would get off easily. A few sad stories, a squeezed tear here and there, and he's out on the streets again. And they know he wouldn't rat out - he's already proven that..but that's another story.

So, as much as Jack appreciates the education the school offers, he would prefer to perfect his criminal skills to the maximum, and school does take valuable hours. However, the mobsters insist he continues going to school: they are sure this makes him less visible to the authorities. Cops won't think of searching for a murderer between high school kids. Especially those with decent grades.

The second reason is more age-appropriate. He doesn't like his peers. He hates them, actually. With no exception, they are dull, stupid, slow and timid little sheep. All they care about is the next pop sensation, internet gossip and who's kissed whom. Girls his age are already turning into money-hungry sluts, and boys are so weak, comparing to his own standards, that they surely will never turn into actual men.

At least these kids are clever enough to stay away from him. It's been a while since a boy from one of the classes tried to talk to him. Well, actually, he tried to mock him. Something like, "if they ever make a sequel of _Scarface_ , the lead role is totally yours". Jack was not touchy when it came to his scars, he actually liked them a bit – they were a very good intimidation tool - but being mocked, whatever the reason, was nothing more than a challenge. And he had no problem accepting any challenge. He gave the boy a good beating and made sure he'd leave his face bloody. All that he did in front of all the school kids. Message received. He was widely avoided from then on.

When he looked in the mirror, which was extremely rare, he was a bit surprised to see the difference in his appearance. Not a skinny boy anymore, now he made a tall and lean figure with well-defined but elegant muscles. His dark blonde hair had shoulder-length. Mostly he more it loose, it hid the scars better; but every now and then came the day when he forced together that dark blonde mane with an elastic band and let the whole world stare at his features. His scars were there, deep, raging, dangerous, there to accompany him throughout life. He heard a girl commenting that he "had nice eyes, though. Like melted chocolate". As if nice eyes could make up for a mangled face. Whatever.

However, fact is that he was getting some female attention lately. He noticed more and more girls looking at him and then giggling amongst themselves. He even realized that one or two of them are actually trying to find a way to talk to him. One "accidentally" dropped her books just as he was going down a nearly empty hallway. He simply walked over her books. Another one started coming to the place behind school where he usually goes to smoke a cigarette or two. She actually started smoking, and boy, did she hate it. He had to give it to her, she was a real trooper. Only when she actually barfed after her umpteenth cigarette did she let the whole idea be.

…

Anyway, no matter how much Jack dislikes school, right now he still needs to be there. He has only one class left today. It's actually his health class, and that one he doesn't want to miss. There is a lot about first aid in that class, and he put that knowledge to good use more than once - on himself, of course. Like he would _ever_ waste time in saving someone else.

As he enters the classroom, last one in as usual, he notices that the seat next to his is occupied.

 _Aww, come on. Her again?!_ Sara or Sondra or whatsherface looks at him like a deer that is just about to be hit by a truck. His face, however, does not show any sign of acknowledgement. He simply sits and ignores her.

But she can't leave it be, now can she?

"It was the only seat left", she hisses at him.

He doesn't look at her as he nonchalantly points towards an empty seat in the middle of the classroom.

"I..I didn't see that one. Sorry", she blushes, "I…I'm not _stalking_ you or anything."

He almost giggles at that.

"R-really, it's just my first day and I'm still a bit, uh, confused, it's a huge school and nobody tells you anything..", she stammered on.

"Could you kindly shut up? I'm trying to pay attention to class.", he cuts her off and enjoys the instant shame that lights up her face.

He should talk to people more often. Turns out it can be pretty _amusing_.

…

"Hey kid, come on in, we were just talking 'bout you", Mike, his usual go-to-mobster greets Jack as he strolled into his small restaurant.

Jack didn't bother greeting Mike or any of the few usual suspects hanging in that particular joint. He slammed his backpack on the floor and then sat next to Mike.

"You going to school? You doin' ok? Good grades and everything?", another mobster, Tony, teased Jack lightly, and in return he just received a pretty hostile stare.

"Leave him be, you knucklehead", Mike said to Tony, "This kid is actually smart. While you in high school, well that was a waste of good breathing air. And also, we agreed that going to school helps him keep it low. The cops don't need to know of his, you know, extracurricular activities."

"Speaking of which, you got something for me?", Jack finally spoke and noticed the other guys flinched just a tiny bit. For someone so young, his voice was low and raspy.

"Hold your horses. First things first", Mike sighed, not liking the topic that would follow, "You did good on the last big job. You know which one.". He looked at Jack knowingly and Jack just nodded. Mike was obviously talking about the Michaels job, the slashed throat in the car.

"Good but not perfect", Mike continued, "There was a witness."

Jack's mood dropped significantly. What god-damned witness? He took care to check his surroundings when he crept into the car..but he didn't make a thorough check when he crept _out_ of the car. He was too excited about the kill he just made. Rookie mistake.

"Witness.", was all that Jack said, darkly.

"Don't you worry your head", Mike said, "Some guy who saw you only from behind. They have your height, but nothing else. Not even the hair colour."

"Lucky you didn't turn your head, with all them scars, you'd be a goner", the other mobster had to say.

"Yeah thank you for your contribution, Tony. Now why don't go and be so smart somewhere else?", Mike said angrily, "Seriously, what the fuck. Shut the fuck up, Tony. Just shut it. Go and bother someone else."

Only after Tony left the restaurant, commenting how _apparently, no one has a good sense of humour anymore_ , did Mike continue. He felt nervous, he didn't like talking to Jack, because even an experienced mobster like Mike knew that Jack was too young, _way too young to be doing all that crazy and nasty shit…he couldn't be right in the head, no, there had to be some serious damage in there, fucking psycho kid!_

"Ok, Jack, here's the deal. This witness-thing has got me thinking. We got a good thing going on here, right?", he waited for Jack's reluctant nod, "So we gotta take care of you, so we can continue with this good thing. Like you going to school. That's good. Even if cops get wind that someone your age is doing, you know, this stuff, they will check the street kids first, right? But in time, they could come to the idea to check high schools, and then what?"

"What?", Jack rolled his eyes.

"Ok, wise ass. If cops come to your school and ask the first kid they see, _Hey kid, is there anyone weird in your school?_ , what do you think that kid would say?", Mike watched Jack closely, and then nodded when he saw that Jack knew what he meant, "That's right. The very first kid would say your name. The very first fucking kid. 'Cause I bet you ain't doin' shit to make friends, or fit in, or anything. Just the opposite, right?"

"That's right", Jack said, "And that's not about to change anytime soon. Even if I wanted it to, Mike. _And I don't want to_."

"I'm not saying you should join the football team or become the prom king, ok? But you know, you could, you know..in order to appear more..", Mike hated the fact that this kid was making him so nervous, "..more normal. You could. Get a friend. A girlfriend."

"A girlfriend.", Jack hummed.

"Single guys always seem a bit odd. Look at us here, we're all married.", Mike cringed a bit, realizing the present company was not the best example, since they all did time for various crimes, "A girl could come in handy, for alibis and stuff. As long as she doesn't know what you actually do, she'll lie like crazy just to protect you."

"A girlfriend", Jack repeat, toying with the idea.

"And you could get laid regularly. Maybe that would make you less..tense.", Mike tried to joke, but averted his eyes as soon as he realized Jack didn't find it funny. As if he ever saw that psycho smiling.

The rest of the conversation was about Jack's new _job_ , and not one more word was wasted on the idea of a girlfriend.


	3. 3 On the lookout

Sanja returned home after her first day of American high school. Boy, did she imagine it differently. She hoped people would be nicer, she expected to at least meet someone, maybe start a friendship or something similar to it. She expected it would be like in the movies - all these young teens, driving their cars, looking all nice, big smiles and stuff. What she got was a mass of disinterested young people, lot of them looking as if they come from a poor background, and nobody had a big smile, surely not for her.

But it fit the overall theme of her stay in the States so far. Nothing turned out as she expected. Her very first day was one big unpleasant surprise. Her aunt, who lived in Gotham for 20 and more years, didn't even bother to pick her up from the airport. Sanja had to pay for a taxi, and the taxi driver didn't fail to take the longest possible way around: the fare was just ridiculous.

Her aunt greeted her as if Sonja came by every day, and not as if she hasn't seen her in more than 10 years. Sonja immediately noticed the packed bags, and soon found out that her aunt wasn't planning on staying. In fact, she was moving in " _with_ _a friend who lives in Atlanta, it's just for a while, dear_. _It won't be a problem, would it? You're a big girl, 17, right? You can manage._ ". Sonja told her she would be 16 years old in two months, and when she asked all those pesky questions, like, what about the bills, how to clean the house, what to eat, etc., she was met with a cold stare. " _Any teenaged girl would be ecstatic to be have a whole house for herself! But if you don't like it, find yourself better accommodation. Or go home._ ".

What choice did she really have? She didn't want to go back to Croatia, she just came here, she wanted to explore Gotham and as much of the States as possible. She didn't know where to find other accommodation and he fear she would be sent home as soon as any authority finds out she's living alone. So the only solution was to live alone in her aunt's house and to keep it a secret from everyone. Her aunt promised to send her money for the bills and groceries, but if she wanted money for something else, like shopping or trips, she'd have to earn it on her own. " _You wanted to experience the American life. Teens your age work. So find yourself a job._ " _._

So, this was her bleak reality. Alone in a different country, without a friendly face, with little money and all alone in a pretty shabby house. Things must get better, she hoped, it can't get much worse, _now can it?_

…

Mike's idea about a girlfriend was constantly pestering Jack. He rejected the idea at first – it was a silly notion, a _girlfriend_! Girls are, let's see, mostly useless. Loud. Demanding. Overly dramatic. Way too curious. Shallow. Boring. You can't beat them up. Well, technically you can. But it leads to a lot of drama, and anyway, they're too weak to fight back, so _where's the fun in that_? So, why bother?

Because of sex, maybe? Jack wondered. He did have some experience at that field, actually, he did have sex. Once. With some older woman. It was quick, dirty, messy and surely didn't leave him wanting for more. That's why Jack thought sex was overrated, and the idea of having a girlfriend because of _love_ didn't cross his mind anyway. Love was some abstract fairy-tale, rumoured to exists, never actually seen by anybody but loonies.

But still, you know how it is when someone plants an idea into your head. It's like a disease, spreading and demanding more and more of your attention. Jack was no exception. The next day in school, he was annoyed to realize that he started taking notice of various girls. It was like a witch was turned on in his mind.

 _This one is annoying, this one has no sense of humour, this one has slept with the entire football team, this one is a dyke, this one has a great rack but no brain, this one is into Twilight or whatever, this one simply stinks…_

 _..and most of them wouldn't spare me a second glance anyway. Most of them are terrified of me. Most of them - if not all of them - are disgusted by the scars._

 _..and all of them are so fucking BORING, so BOOOORING, SO GODDAMN BLEAK. No fun at all._

…

Sanja's second day in school isn't much better than the first one. She still can't find a way to get to know anyone without being awkward and she feels out of place. She took extra care of her appearance that morning, her make up is done nicely, her long brownish hair looks healthy and shiny, her clothes fit her nicely. She knows it's a bit pathetic, but maybe that would help her get some attention.

But apart from some lingering looks from boys, it doesn't make a great deal of difference.

Again, recess is here and she faces the same dilemma as yesterday. She is a bit quicker today and not all tables are yet completely occupied. She awkwardly steers towards a table where only two girls sit, but as soon as she meets their unfriendly gazes, she gives up. At first she feels shame, and some sadness too, but those feelings are quickly replaced by anger. What on earth did she do that she doesn't deserve to simply sit somewhere and mind her on business?!

In her fury, she walks to an unoccupied table in the back and slams her tray on it. A few heads turn and she notices a few faces that seem both surprised and..concerned? She doesn't care. She sits down and returns those looks with a few glares of her own.

However, very soon it dawns on her why people would be worried about her choice of seat. It was _his_ table. Scarface guy. Of course, she realizes that only when she meets a pair of brown, angry eyes. Scarface guy, in all his menacing glory, slowly approaches _his_ table and drops his tray on it.

"Are you, uhm, _lost_?" his deep voice bears also a bit of a nasal tone to it, making the hair on her arms rise.

"No.", she tries to sound relaxed in spite of wishing she could just disappear into thin air, "This is the canteen, it's recess, I'm having lunch."

"This is _my_ table.", he towers over her. Boy, he's _really_ tall.

"Then sit.", she says shortly and absolutely refuses to look up to him. She doesn't know why, but she feels the need to stand her ground. If she shies away now, she will always be pushed around.

A few very long seconds pass and finally he sits down. He eats his sandwich and throws her a nasty look here and there. She's aware of his looks but acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary. In the same time, she is sure she will choke on the apple she's eating. This is the most uncomfortable meal she's ever eaten. Still, she feels she's doing the right thing for herself.

"I will _not_ be seeing you here tomorrow", he snarls as she is about to finish her goddamned apple.

"Oh, you will", she blurts out with a small laugh.

They stare at each other with all of the possible hostility. She can see that he is annoyed but intrigued. He can see that she is both scared and stubborn.

"You will actually see me sooner than that", sometimes she just can't shut up, "We have maths today."

Their weird interaction is closely followed by the rest of the canteen and as soon as she finally gets up and leaves, the air feels lighter. No bloodshed today.

…

Just to prove her wrong, Jack deliberately skips maths that day.

"That asshole", Sonja smiles at his empty seat and then does her best to keep up with the class.


	4. The joke is on you

She was a bit late the next day at recess, it was only her third day in school and the school building was huge. She got lost, which frustrated her to no end, and at one point she just needed to ask for directions. She halted a tall, brown-haired girl who offered to take her there.

"You don't need too, just point it for me", Sanja didn't want to bother the girl.

"I'm going there anywhere", the brown-haired girl smiled timidly.

The two girls walked down the corridor in silence. Sanja frantically searched her brain for any conversation starter, since this girl seemed nice, and Sanja really needed someone to say hello to on a daily basis. However, her brain unhelpfully threw her only stupid-sounding phrases.

"My name is Rachel", the girl interrupted the silence with the simplest ice-breaker ever, "You're new here, Sania, right?"

"Sanja—how do you know?", Sanja gave her a relieved smile.

"We have German class together", Rachel giggled.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't notice!", Sanja's cheeks reddened, "So many new people, so many classes, I still mix everything and everybody up!"

"That's totally fine", Rachel tapped her back in a friendly manner, and Sanja felt a surge of happiness, "I'm sure I wouldn't do any better if I were an exchange student in your country."

"Actually, you probably would. Did you know that in Croatia, we don't get to choose classes, like here? All classes are mandatory. Therefore, we have classes of 30 or 35 pupils who listen to all those subjects together. It's not like, ' _oh, I have maths with Sally and George, and physics with Ben and Thomas_ ". So, if you were in Croatia, you would only need to memorize names of those 30 people going to your class, and you're sharing that class for 4 years", Sanja explained, and then wondered if she was rambling a bit.

"Wow, that's a really funny system! So, I guess you guys become good friends during those 4 years?", Rachel seemed sincerely interested.

"Well, yeah, you could say that…but you know how it is…never perfect", Sanja shrugged her shoulders, thinking of her classmates back home in Croatia. She knew her 2 or 3 friends from class missed her, but the rest surely didn't care at all.

"So..yeah, we're here", Rachel pointed out the obvious. Sanja didn't even notice, but they we're already in front of the canteen, "See you around, ok?"

"Ok", Sanja said, feeling a bit disappointed that the conversation was already over, "Oh, and thank you for showing me the way!"

"Anytime", Rachel almost turned away, but then stopped as if she forgot something, "Uhm, you can join me and my friends for lunch if you like?"

Sanja almost said yes, but her eyes already had fallen on Scarface guy, shooting her dark looks from the other side of the canteen. He was already at _his_ table, and he was sending her very clear messages _not_ to come over. And again, Sanja's impulsiveness took over.

"Can I take, uhm, how you say it here, a rain check?", she smiled apologetically at Rachel, "I have some unfinished business to take care of."

"Sure", Rachel said, but worry and surprise were visible on her pretty face.

"I'm pretty sure I'll take you up on your offer very soon", Sanja said, glancing at Scarface guy, "My current lunch companion can be very moody."

Rachel made a move like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it and stopped. Sonja felt like she knew what Rachel wanted to say, she probably wanted to warn her about Scarface guy, but that was ok, Sanja wasn't blind, she knew he was trouble. And still – after saying another thanks and bye to Rachel and getting something to eat– she went straight to his (or her?) table.

He was obviously annoyed, but before he had a chance to say anything, she pushed a few papers his way.

"You missed maths yesterday", she didn't comment further as he took the papers, and to his surprise, found yesterday's lesson neatly copied down for him.

He was lost for words for a few seconds. _What was this supposed to be?_

"What do you want?", he snarled towards her.

"From you? Nothing", she looked at him rather coldly, feeling irritation because he didn't even bother to manage a simple 'thanks'.

"Am I some kind of..pity project?", he demanded angrily.

"It seemed like you're good at maths, so it would be a _pity_ if you missed a class.", she rolled her eyes.

Surprisingly, he chuckled at her answer. "So, you're saying that I am a pity project.".

"Guess so", she smirked.

"Hmph", he grunted with a hint of amusement and drew his attention to the papers.

That was a small, but significant victory for Sonja. For some reason, she felt that it is crucial for her self-esteem to provoke him-to show she's not afraid of him. He surely was the school's most troublesome individual. If she can face him, she literally can face anyone. God knows she needed just that: she felt pushed around, lost and ignored. She needed to find strength in order to survive her year abroad.

She glanced at him a few times-he already was engrossed in solving the math problem. A few of his dirty blonde locks fell over his brow. His eyes were focused on the paper, and his whole body was tense, as if he was thinking with all his muscles. He tapped his foot a few times, quickly and nervously, and then suddenly relaxed as he wrote down the solution. She didn't avert her eyes quickly enough, and he caught her staring.

"What?", he asked flatly.

Sanja was actually thinking of asking him to copy his answer, since she had no idea how to do what he just did in just a minute, but another thought blasted through her head:

"What's your name?" she blurted out as she thought ' _I can't call you Scarface guy forever.._ '.

"Scarface guy.", he simply said as he watched her intently.

It was like she was slapped right in her face, and she was sure her entire face was tomato red. Before she had the opportunity to stammer out anything, he continued:

"Isn't that what you call me in your thoughts?", he smirked lightly.

"As if I am thinking of you!", she managed to pipe out, now sure that her discomfort was clearly visible. Goddamn, he can read thoughts, that one!

"No, obviously, you don't", he mocked her as he waved the papers she gave him just minutes ago.

"Maybe I did it only to copy your answers!", she said defiantly. _Half-truths are the best truths_ , she thought to herself.

"If that's the case..", he laughed a bit and wrote something down on the papers, and then pushed them towards her, "..knock yourself out."

He walked away as the clear victor in that little silly fight they keep on having, and she was on the verge of knocking her head on the table. However, she collected herself and took the papers. At the bottom of one of them, he wrote his name in big, capital letters.

JACK NAPIER.

No more Scarface guy, she promised herself, from now on, he's Jack. Only Jack. She'll think of him as Jack, Jack Napier. If she would think about him. Why would she think about him at all? How ridiculous. It wasn't like he's the only person on this planet, she would meet other people eventually. She met that girl, Rachel, today. That was not hard. She should meet people like Rachel and hang out with such kind of people. What was she thinking, provoking the most menacing-looking guy around?! God, was she stupid sometimes…


	5. Not funny at all

The next day was cloudy and depressing, too. Sonja was making herself breakfast before going to school. All alone in that creepy old house, with no one to talk to, and with going to school as highlight of the day-that was not how she imagined her life in the States.

She needs to meet more people, she needs to make friends with someone. Also, she realized as she checked her purse, she needed more money.

 _I need a job._

It was the obvious solution. She needed a job: she would earn some money, and she would possibly meet some people.

 _Where do I find a job?_

 _And what kind of job?_

In movies, teenagers work in fast food places. She couldn't stomach fast food even if her life depended on it-the smell was making her nauseous. Maybe she could work in some retail store? She was clumsy, though. What if with one wrong move she manages to demolish half a store? She didn't want to be a new YouTube sensation.

The same thoughts plagued her when she was already at school. All those faces, and no one to say hello to. God damn depressing. She shifted her attention from people to the hallway, and came to notice a huge bulletin board with the inscription "JOBS". She hurried to the board and started reading the various notes. Just as she feared, most of them were jobs in retail or various food chains. And babysitting-she had no idea about how to handle kids, so babysitting was out of the question. However, there was one note that seemed intriguing. _Do you speak foreign languages?_ , it said. Sonja cheered up immediately. She spoke both German, and of course, Croatian. Maybe she could earn some money by doing translations? She wrote down the contact info and grinned.

"Hey there, found something?", a gentle voice startled Sonja.

"Rachel, hi!", Sonja smiled happily. _Finally a kind face!_ , "Yeah, I'm searching for a job-I wouldn't mind a few dollars more!"

"Tell me about it", Rachel nodded, "I walk dogs for my entire street and I babysit."

"I was thinking about babysitting, too, but I'm not good with kids", Sonja made a mock confession.

"Well hello there", a tall and very handsome boy approached Rachel from the back and hugged her.

"Bruce!", Rachel blushed immediately.

"Missed me?", Bruce joked lightly.

"I've seen you just a few minutes ago, remember?", Rachel tried to sound serious, but her blush gave her away. Sonja could clearly see that Rachel was very much in love with this boy.

"I'll take that as a yes", Bruce smiled as he shifted his eyes to Sonja. Surprisingly, he kept his flirtatious manner as his eyes roamed over Sonja's figure, "Rachel, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?"

Rachel noticed the way Bruce looked at Sonja and her smile vanished. Sonja felt pure panic: she so wanted to become Rachel's friend! She was actually planning to ask her if she could join her for lunch today, and now she felt Rachel getting colder by the second. So, she searched for her eyes, and when she caught her look, she widened her eyes and slightly shrugged her shoulders, trying to signal something like "I have nothing to do with this". Luckily, Rachel seemed to understand what Sonja was trying to communicate, since she gave her a little smile and a slight roll of eyes towards Bruce. Sonja interpreted that as a sign that this was not the first time Bruce was flirting around.

"So?", Bruce shot his eyebrows up as a few seconds passed. He didn't catch the little unspoken conversation the girls just had.

"I'm Sonja, I'm new here", Sonja smiled politely but a bit coldly. She wanted Rachel to see that she was not flirting back.

"Oh, I know you-you're the one making friends with the freak!", he commented nonchalantly. Sonja literally took a little step back-obviously, Jack was somewhat notorious, and there must be a valid reason for that, but she really didn't like name-calling.

"Excuse me?", Sonja decided to play stupid.

"You know, the Napier kid. He's a total psycho, why do you hang around him?", the easy smile didn't leave Bruce's lips.

"I didn't notice he was a freak, or a psycho.", Sonja now felt a bit of anger towards Bruce, "Is it because of his scars that you think this about him?"

"Nooo.", Bruce rolled his eyes as he is talking to a person who is particularly slow in her head, "OK, you're new here, so you didn't hear the stories yet. I mean, he doesn't have a liver-they had to remove after he was stabbed. He went to prison.."

"Bruce, stop fooling around, you know these stories are not true..!", Rachel protested but also laughed.

"…and in prison, he ate a live duck!", Bruce finished with a grin.

Sonja almost joined Rachel's infectious laughter, the rumours about Jack Napier were simply too ridiculous. However, Bruce lost a good opportunity to shut up in time:

"No, really, all jokes aside", he said more seriously, "Stay away from that guy. He's really a freak. People will think you're a freak, too, if you continue to hang around him."

This struck a nerve within Rachel and again she felt somewhat angry. She didn't have a reason to think particularly good of Jack, but she surely didn't have an actual reason to judge him so harshly and cruelly.

"Maybe I don't care that much what people think of me.", she said with a forced smile.

"I'm pretty sure that isn't true", Bruce retorted in a pretty patronizing matter.

"I'm pretty sure the world does not revolve around you and your opinion", Sanja smirked.

"Whoa guys, what is going on with you two?", Rachel stepped in right on time. Sonja and Bruce seemed to be seconds away from starting an argument. The bell rang at that exact moment, indicating that classes are about to begin.

"Saved by the bell", Sonja couldn't help but to jest a bit.

"Aren't you a snappy one", Bruce rolled his eyes but gave her somewhat of an approving look.

Just as Sanja search for some clever comeback, her eyes fell on Jack, who was strolling through the hallway. His walk was both confident and graceful, his entire body strong but not bulky. He noticed her before she noticed him, so his dark eyes were already on her, not letting her know if he like what he saw or not, and she felt a wave of heat coming over her.

Lunch would be soon, and she knew she would be stupid once again.

….

He didn't react in any way when she joined him for lunch. She noticed that he didn't hurry up with his meal, no, it even seemed like he slowed down, as if he is demonstrating that he will not we pushed away from _his_ table.

She didn't know where this-whatever was making her come back to him- was coming from. She stood her ground already, she has proven that, so what else did she have to prove? It's not like she's falling for him. He is attractive, in his own unique way, that much she had to admit. The attraction she felt for him had nothing to do with his looks, it was something else. Maybe the unclear feeling of danger and adventure that seemed to surround him.

Whatever it was, she was at his table again. The table was round and she never sat right next to him or opposite to him, but somewhere in the middle. Close, but not close enough.

She prayed to herself not to blurt out rubbish again. She pushed her food around, thinking about what to say to him.

"Made some friends, did you?", his deep but velvety voice brought her back to reality.

"Uh, what?", him addressing her first confused her so much that she didn't catch the question.

"Did. You. Befriend. Anyone?", he repeated impatiently.

"I did.", she said and then thought about it again, "Actually, I'm not sure. I think I didn't."

He fell silent again, and she looked at him a few times and managed with some effort to refrain from asking if he counts, too. Did she befriend _him_?

Luckily, before she had time to change her mind and ask him if they were maybe something like friends, he had another question.

"So, did they tell you about me?", he asked, poking his mac and cheese on his plate as if the dish has somehow offended him.

"Tell me what?", she hated that she sounded so slow today, "Oh wait, you mean about the duck?"

He laughed so suddenly and loudly that half of the canteen turned to look at him. She couldn't help it, she had to giggle along. It took a full minute for both of them to calm down.

"But you do have a liver, right?", she asked with a smile.

"I do", he put a huge clump of pasta into his mouth and grinned. After he managed to swallow, he grinned again and told her, "I got stabbed though. Obviously."

She looked at him puzzled and he just waved towards his face, "I didn't have an accident while _shaving_ , doll face.". He smiled again, but now his smile was somehow heavy and sour.

Before she had the chance to ask what actually happened (which would be a grave mistake, she sensed that clearly), he walked away without a further word. She watched him go, and a she disappeared from sight, she met Rachel's warm eyes as well as Bruce's annoyed look from the other side of the canteen. Sanja managed a weak nod and an even more weak smile, and Rachel returned the smile, worry visible on her pretty face.

 **A/N Hey guys, thank you for reading! I hope you like the story-let me know! Comments and suggestions are very, very welcome!**


	6. A very unlikely romance

_You can't kill an idea._

Jack heard that one a few times already, but never thought that he would be a victim to this. Namely, the idea of a girlfriend just would not leave his mind. He wasn't searching for romance, at least that was what he was telling himself, he just liked the possibility of alibis and playing normal very much. A girlfriend could provide him that. A good girlfriend could lie to the police, she could come in handy for lots of things, she could spy around, she could help him blend in-no, Mike the mobster was onto something.

But, who could be the lucky lady? He decided that she should be someone from his school – high school sweethearts, isn't that cure and very, very _normal_? She should be pretty, but not very popular – it would look weird if he would date the homecoming queen all of a sudden. Not to mention that the popular girls were _hard to get_. She should be someone who isn't demanding, a low-maintenance girlfriend.

 _Actually_ , he thought as he was driving down some street not too far from school, s _he should be someone who I could manipulate easily. Someone isolated._ _If I could blackmail her with something, that would be perfect. Then I wouldn't have to bother with lying to her about being all in love..I could just make her pretend to be my girlfriend in school. I wouldn't waste time dating, buying presents, having stupid fights with her..sounds like a perfect relationship to me._

Just as he was going through his mental list of girls in school, his eyes caught the sight of Sonja walking down the street. He slowed down immediately _._

 _Isolated? Check? Pretty but not popular? Check. And the entire school already saw her chasing after me, not the other way around. So, the romance could actually seem believable. Now, if I could find out something about her that I could use against her…then I got myself a little fake girlfriend._

He watched her as she walked into an old crappy yard with an even older, crappier house. It looked a bit like the dump he lived in. He didn't really mind. He lived alone in his house for a while now, his mother long dead, and his father simply left four years ago. That was a relief. That man could only drink and puke and then repeat the same mess all over again. Disgusting. Anyway, he was left alone, so the house and the yard took a turn for the worse. Not that his father took any care about the appearance of their estate, but still..ever since he was there alone, one could simply sense that there was no adult around.

 _Just as this house. Look at that yard, there used to be a flowerbed a while ago, now it's neglected. There is no car-maybe her foster parents are at work? No. There is no car, period. The driveway is full of dead leaves, and no tire tracks. The trash bin is still on the street, somebody forgot to take it in. The windows are dirty, and there is just one light on in the entire house._

 _She is home alone._

And then Jack realized that he was closer to the truth than he initially thought.

 _This is just like my place, and I live alone. She's not just home alone - she lives alone._

He grinned as he got out of his car.

 _Gotcha_!

…

[SONJA'S POV]

 _Knock, knock._

I go all stiff with fear. Who is knocking, and why? I don't know any neighbour, I surely have no friends, no one even knows I live here. I try to creep towards the front window and take a quick peek, but a voice makes me stop in my tracks.

 _I can hear you._

I know that voice from somewhere, and that mocking makes me think of scars. I search for any kind of braveness inside of me and open the front doors with a sigh. I can't find anything to say besides to ask him what he's doing here, but that would be rude, so I just stare wordlessly at him. He looks..nice. He's relaxed, leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed, looking at me with a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Invite me in..?", he half-asks and half-demands.

"What, are you a vampire?", my mouth is once again faster than my brains. He looks at me as if he is checking if I'm all there, and he probably is checking just that. Then he just passes me by as he enters the house.

"Wow, this place has seen better days", he comments as he takes in all the dust. I immediately feel ashamed. I actually started cleaning the house as soon as my aunt left. The trouble is, the mess is so great that I clean on a room-by-room bass. I managed the bathroom (for obvious reasons), my bedroom and right now I was doing the kitchen. The front hall and the living room however are still a smelly mess.

Just as I try to find an explanation (and why do I feel like I have to explain myself to him at all?), he turns to me and says:

"Well, one can not expect perfect housekeeping skills from a 16-year old girl living all alone."

While I do realize that he had just pointed out that one thing that I decided to keep hidden, my sub consciousness decides to very unhelpfully get offended over the one year over he gave me.

"I'm fifteen!", I say and facepalm in the same time. _Busted_.

"And you live alone.", he simply states. I roll my eyes – there's no point denying. He figured it out, the only secret I had.

"Do you want coffee?", I pathetically try to change the subject.

"I didn't come for coffee", he answers and his brows rise as suggesting something.

"How do you know where I live?", I confront him finally.

"I know a lot of things", he clearly evades my question and pursues his agenda, "Do you know what else I know? Minors living alone..that's not ok with the law. And foreign minors living alone? Your ass would be shipped away so fast.."

"Is this because of your lunch table?", I almost yell. I'm agitated and I feel threatened. Hell, I _am_ being threatened!

"Come again?", he laughs as if surprised.

"Because I sat a few times at your precious table and had the audacity to sit next to you in two crappy classes? That deserves to be punished by extradition?!", I'm really angry now. Who does this guy think he is?!

"No, no, no..", he shakes his head and that goddamn cute smirk does not leave his lips, "I actually have an offer. I'm a fair guy, you see."

"Are you going to blackmail me?", I almost laugh, outraged.

"Well, technically, yes.", he shrugs his shoulders shamelessly, "But it's not that bad. Basically, you do me a few favours and I keep shtum".

My mind panics and fills me with images of me being used as a drug mule, or prostitute, or worse. I feel like I'm turning green in my face.

"What do you want?", I ask meekly.

"I want you to sit with me in the canteen, at _my_ table, every day", he says seriously.

"What?", I asked confused.

"We're gonna talk, and laugh a bit, and you'll smile at me. We'll walk down the hallways together and sometimes I'm gonna put my arm around your waist. Here and then you'll..", he stopped a bit, rolling his eyes, "..you'll kiss me on my check. Avoid. The. Scars."

"What?", I understand what he is saying, but I don't understand what is going on.

"If anyone asks you, you'll say we're dating. If I ever ask you to, you will come with me on a date or otherwise spend time with me.", he finishes his list of demands.

"You want me to be your girlfriend?", I ask, to see if I understood any of this right.

"I want you to _act_ as if you were my girlfriend.", he corrects me.

"So..I won't actually be your girlfriend, I mean, we won't..", I don't know how to ask what I really want to ask, and that is if he will insist on being intimate.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you", he says coldly as he reads my mind once again.

"Why?", I ask and instantly feel the need to kill myself. It sounded as if I'm asking why he wouldn't touch me, and I actually meant to ask him why he wants me to put up this act.

"Well, if you insist..", he rolls his eyes and smirks a bit, but he actually understands what I really wanted to ask, "You don't need to know why. All you need to know that if you don't, you can go and pack your stuff. So, we have a deal?"

We actually shake hands and both sigh as we do so. I guess he's not that happy with this plan, so he really must have a crying need for a fake girlfriend. Just as I have a crying need not to be shipped away.

He walks away after our awkward handshake. I watch him getting into his old, huge car (it's one of those large American cars-I have no idea what they are called. Dodge or something?). He doesn't spare me a glance as he's driving away.

 _Some boyfriend,_ I think to myself.


	7. Have you heard the news

I couldn't sleep well that night. How did I get into all of this? Only this Monday I started school, and tomorrow is Friday, and already I have a quite intimidating fake boyfriend who is also blackmailing me with extradition from the States. Geez.

I thought of ways of getting out of this weird deal, but nothing proved helpful. First, I thought of simply not going to school for a few days and hoping Jack will simply give up on this sill idea. However, he does seem pretty vindictive, so I dismissed the plan since I was almost sure he'd call the authorities on me just to get even.

Then I thought of simply calling my aunt to come back. Then I would live with an adult, and all would be fine, right? Except I can't really stand her, and she does not care for me at all, so I doubt she would move back because of me, and even if she did, she would surely do her best to make my stay as unpleasant as possible.

That leaves me just where I started, so I guess I'll just have to endure…maybe if I just stayed home this one day, simply to face my troubles next Monday? But I'm sure I'd see his fuming (though very attractive) person at my door as soon as the last class is over.

Ok, time to get up and face the music.

How will today look like? I don't have any class today with him until recess, so I'll see him in the canteen. Unless I bump at him in the hallway. Or should I wait for him in front of the school? I'm his girlfriend, so I should look forward to see him, right? A real girlfriend can't wait to see her boyfriend, and uses any opportunity to do so, I guess?

Thing is, I never really had a boyfriend, I mean, I had a few flirts, I kissed a boy or two, but you know..I'm fifteen, for God's sake, I simply don't know that much about these things! And now my first relationship will be a fake one. God, this could only happen to me, I swear, that's my rotten luck!

I go through my wardrobe, and every single piece of clothing seems somehow wrong, and I'm sure he'll hate whatever I chose to put on. On the other hand, since when do I care what he thinks about my looks?! And also, why do I obsess so much about him and his stupid idea? I should think of it just as if it was a job-an acting job. I'll play the timid girlfriend, and that's it. So I could o myself a big favour and stop thinking about what a cute smile he can actually have. Or his hair..like a lion, the colour and those wild locks..ok, I have to stop thinking about my fake boyfriend. He's fake, fake, fake. I need to remember that. He's my _fake_ boyfriend.

I finally find a simple and nice enough outfit and go to school. Of course, as classes come and go, my mind keeps on revolving around Jack and this weird situation. Luckily, I didn't meet Jack in the hallway, at least I don't think I did – I kept my head so low that I saw only the floor and shoes. Recess is close and I'm nervous as hell.

…

I saw her in the hallway a few hours ago, she was stumbling her way to the class, avoiding everybody and drawing way too much attention to herself. And now she enters the canteen with a face so pale that I'm sure she'll either puke or simply faint. Her eyes dart in my direction and she stops dead in her tracks as she sees me at _my_ table. First I shot a warning look, reminding her to _behave_ , and then I throw her a little smile and nod my head, indicating that I'm waiting for her.

She turns to get her food, and not a minute goes by, and she's already on her way to me. I don't know what it is, but I enjoy the fact that she's coming to me, and I don't even care if she wants to, I even like the power I have over her, and I even enjoy that I am making her do this.

She gives me a forced but brave little smile as she half-drops her tray on the table.

"Hi", she manages to squeeze out.

"Hi, doll face", I answer in my most reassuring voice, but it still comes out a bit threatening, and I see her tense up even more. I notice she has sat down as she usually does – with one chair between us. That won't do.

"Sit closer to me", I demand quietly, and she pushed her chair a bit more towards my side. Obviously, I'll have to draw things for her.

"I meant, sit on the chair next to me", I slightly push the chair next to me, showing her where I wanted her. She glances at the chair, and then at me, and I can see her discomfort.

"This won't work if you don't play along", I remind her in a sing-song voice, creeping her out even more. In the same time, I realize this won't work either if I continue to scare her that much. Not that I'm putting any real effort in it, but I guess that's part of my dubious charm. Scaring the shit out of chicks by simply _existing_.

She slides into the chair next to me and keeps on staring into her food.

"How was class?", I decided to start a conversation-this should loosen her up.

"I..I had Introduction to business, and German..it was ok..I guess", she answers.

"How come you have chosen German? Did you study German back home?", I ask.

"Uhm, I already know German..I just..", she blushed a bit, "I wanted to have at least one class that I will be good in."

I laugh out loud, I simply _love_ things like that. How very _opportunistic_! It's like killing off all other contestants just to be sure you'll win a race and get your medal.

She looks at me mildly offended.

"I'm not laughing at you, actually, I appreciate your honesty. Well done, doll face", I smile at her and put my arm around the back of her chair.

She rolls her eyes but gives me a tiny smile: tiny, but honest.

"You look nice today", I know I can't go wrong with compliments. And sure as hell, she blushes and smiles.

"Thank you", she sits up a bit straighter.

"Atta girl", I murmur. Now we're getting somewhere: we're sitting close enough, we're talking a bit, we seem almost like a couple. And people are surely taking notice, I see them looking over. As some girls from a few tables over look at us, I pretend to stroke Sonja's hair, and I see the girls thinks that's cute, and as I see a guy checking out Sonja a bit too closely, I shoot him a few menacing looks, just as a proper boyfriend would do.

Yeah, I could do this. I can fake my way through this.

….

We leave the canteen together, and I'm sure everyone is staring at us. Jack seems to be enjoying this charade, as he decides to walk me to my classroom, casually putting his long arm around my shoulders. Firstly, I find this a hard way to walk, but then I somehow catch his rhythm. I also discover it's way easier to walk like this if I put my arm around his waist. So I do that. He shots me a slightly surprised stare and then grins down at me. He looks satisfied, so I guess my act is good enough. I hate myself for the pang of happiness I felt when he smiled at me in that moment, and remind myself this is _fake_.

When he's finally gone, I immediately sit down in my place in the last row and relax visibly. I don't even care what class I am in, I simply can't find it in me to pay any attention. I use the next few hours just to sort through my thoughts and feelings, because all of this has left me in a pretty big mess.

First of all, that lunch today was the most awkward things _ever_. It was like I forgot how my entire body works, I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. I knew he was watching me closely, and judging me, too, and hell, I wanted to _please him_. How sick is that? I mean, this guy is blackmailing me. He's making me pretend to be his girlfriend. Which also means, for as long as this lasts, I can't find myself a real boyfriend 'cause I'm already stuck with a fake one! And instead of feeling angry at him, I want to please him, and I almost melt away when he smiles at me. Not to mention that I felt my cheeks burning when he complimented my clothes.

And also, I felt (oh God, this is really embarrassing to admit, but I'm talking to myself here, so whatever), I felt a bit of _pride_ when we strolled down the hallway. I mean, he's a rought &tough guy, good-looking in a menacing way, not pretty but predatory hot, he looks dangerous…everybody's afraid of him, and he would talk to no one—but me…except that's fake. Hmph. I have to remember that. It's fake. He's not into me. I shouldn't want that, anyway.

Finally, the last class is over and I can't wait to go home and hide away for the weekend. However, as I exit the classroom, Rachel is already outside, apparently waiting for me.

"Sonja, hi", she smiles at me.

"Rachel, how are you?", I'm so glad to see her.

"I'm fine, but, how are you?", she smiles as she rises her brows suggestively.

"I'm fine..", I try to ignore what she is playing at.

"I don't want to intrude, I know we don't know each other that well, and it's not my place to comment..", she hesitatingly starts.

"I know what you're talking about", I sigh.

"I mean, the entire school is talking about it", Rachel chuckles.

"Wow, I didn't think it would be a big deal?!", I'm somewhat taken aback. I understand Jack's a bit notorious, but not to the extent that people would actually pay much attention to stuff like this.

"So, you do like him?", she asks me a bit more seriously.

"Well, we're dating, I guess", I evade the exact answer and tell what he told me to tell.

Rachel nods, and I see I haven't really fooled her. But she's is too polite to continue with questioning. We walked towards the exit, and then she stops.

"Sonja, again, I don't want to be rude, and I really hope you're happy and everything..but you're new here, so maybe there are things about Jack Napier that you don't know. I mean, there are those stupid rumours, and obviously, they are not true. But also, there is the fact that there is something..I don't know, something wrong with Jack.", she looks at me a bit sadly.

"What do you mean?", I ask, concerned.

"I don't know exactly-it's more of a feeling. But there must be a reason why everyone is keeping their distance from him. And I wouldn't say it's only his scars.", she stops as Bruce is approaching us, "Just be careful, ok? And if you need help-I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Rachel", I say it and I mean it. I would tell her everything if only I could, but I'm sure she couldn't help, and anyway, Bruce is here, jokingly tickling Rachel.

"Hey there, my favourite girl", he laughs as he kisses her hair, and then he looks at me, "And her pretty but weird friend."

"What did I do to deserve that title?", I take it as a joke and laugh.

"You went over to the dark side", he grins but I can see that he actually means it.

"Jesus, Bruce, you're such a drama queen!", Rachel cuts off the weird moments and then turns to me, "I've been meaning to ask you, there is a big party tomorrow at a friend's house, do you want to come?"

"I would love to come!", I answer a bit too enthusiastically.

Rachel and I exchange phone numbers and agree to talk later to determine all the details.

"Is your boyfriend coming, too?", Bruce asks somewhat snidely.

"I don't think so. You know, Saturday evening is a busy time for him, people to rob, cars to steal and so on..", I fire back with venom, and in the same time I think to myself: _As if I'm going to say a word about this party to Jack…_

 _ **A/N Hey guys! Thank you for reading and commenting! Especially the last comment (from my new French friend) has made me soooo happy! Merci bien**_ __

 _ **Btw I publish this story also on ArchiveOfOurOwn under the same name, and that site is much better for answering to comments. Also, it's better for editing, so often I correct mistakes in the version on that site (this site is a bit more complicated so you guys get the rough version). So I would recommend that you read it there, but of course it's up to you**_ __


	8. Party crasher

_I simply knew she was about to do something stupid,_ Jack snarled to himself as he was sitting in his car parked just a few housesaway from Sonja's. It was Saturday night, 10 PM, and the lights were out. No TV on, no nothing, the house was obviously empty.

Jack's dark eyes checked the surroundings once again as he furiously thought of where she could be. She's not asleep (he actually checked; he climbed up to her bedroom window. Now his jeans were partially ripped. _Great_.), she's not out working since she still doesn't have a job (he could actually find her a waitressing job easily, but she seems terribly clumsy, so better leave that one be), so that only leaves the option of her meeting up with someone. A date?

The idea of Sonja being on a date with some guy made him feel violent. Images of her kissing someone else led to images of him breaking a neck or two, and slapping her silly. He grabbed the wheel tightly, trying to restore some calmness and reason. She hasn't met anyone. Yet. So, she doesn't have anyone to go on a date with. Not that it would make him feel jealous or anything. He's not interested in her, not really, he just needs her to be his fake girlfriend, and that naturally means she can't date around. _Except with me. She can fake-date me. So where the hell is she on a Saturday night when I'm checking up on my.. assets?_

Jack gradually calmed down, and his logical thinking came back, too. She made something like friends with Rachel Dawes, and maybe with that rich boy Wayne. For these kids, Saturday night means _party. For me, it means breaking and entering and grand theft auto, and I'm not talking about the video game._

There is this big party at that kid's Crane place, he heard that in school. He never attended those parties, but he always took care to be well informed about what's going on.

Sonja surely screwed this up royally and Jack was in a very stupid position. If she is at that party, he should be there with her, too – he's her boyfriend for all intents and purposes! So he needs to go there, act as if she has invited him, get her out of there and give her a serious scolding afterwards. On the other hand, if she's not there, he will crash a party and look even weirder than usual. _And I got her as my girlfriend just to achieve the opposite, to blend in, not to stand out. Oh, she'll pay a pretty dollar for this crap, she will…_

It had to be done. He drove to Crane's place, and during the 10-minute ride he took a critical look at his appearance. His black jeans ripped, his grey hoodie pretty worn out, his military boots used and abused..so much for blending in. Instantly, his rebellious part awakened, and he decided to stand out even more. He found a hair band in the glove compartment and put his messy hair into an even more messy bun. _It lets the scars pop up so nicely..._

He wordlessly enters Crane's house (couldn't miss it with all those cars parked outside and music blasting out) and people, no matter how drunk or stoned, take big care to make place for him.

He doesn't spare a look right or left, he just scans the room for Sonja.

 _Bingo_.

She's there, in a really nice purple dress and black pumps. Her hair is done, her make up is perfect, she looks very nice and _very single_. Surely, she is surrounded by some guys, laughing. She looks like she's having fun.

Oh, he'll show her _fun_.

…

It was like the temperature dropped for 20 degrees in a matter of seconds. The group of people I am talking to simultaneously takes a few steps back, and in peripheral vision I see, or rather feel, something dark. Someone tall. _Someone_ is looking. At. Me.

I turn and Jack smiles at me.

He smiles, but his eyes scream at me.

His scars are really intimidating right now. _Everything_ about him is intimidating.

I am in _so much_ trouble.

All eyes are on us.

"There you are", he says and pulls me towards me. It looks like he pulls me gently, but I can feel the concealed anger and strength in his touch.

"You found me", I can't find anything better to say.

"You know I would", his look is saying that I better play along.

"I wasn't sure you would make it, you said you had to work", I improvise to the best of my abilities. I know he is furious, and I have to save whatever is left to save. In the spur of the moment, I rise to my toes and give him a quick peck on the lips, "I'm so glad you've made it!"

"Me, too.", he receives the kiss as if I have kissed him a thousand times already, "I'm pretty knackered though, so let's not stay for too long, okay?"

"How about I get you a drink, and then we can go?", I want him to see that I'm fully cooperating.

"You do that", he has the audacity to slap my bottom lightly as I turn, and even though I would love to smack him in the face for that, I just quickly turn to him and throw him a wicked smile.

When I come back with a beer for him, the people I talked to just minutes ago, are gone. However, there is Rachel, and she's talking to Jack.

"I'm glad you finally decided to come to a party, Jack", she smiles bravely at him. I'm sure she's lying, but nevertheless, she is simply such a person: she wants to feel everyone included. That's probably why she's so kind to me, I realize sadly.

"Yeah..I'm more of a..private person, you know?", Jack surely knows how to put on a show, and this time it was the loner-gone-friendly, "But she made me promise to come."

Just as I wondered if he was referring to me, I got that suspicion confirmed as he pulls me towards him and puts his arm over my shoulders.

"Well, we are dating, right?", I smile sweetly at him.

"Yeah, whatever. Like everybody needs to know about _that_.", he rolls his eyes _as if I am the one_ who wants everyone know that we're dating. Fake dating. Whatever.

Rachel rolls her eyes a bit and excuses herself. My evening is definitely ruined now and with every new sip of the juice-vodka I'm drinking I feel my fear transform more and more into anger. What the fuck? Can I just, like, live? Can I get a break? My eyes drift towards a handsome boy I was talking to before Jack appeared out of nowhere. I was hoping to get to know him. And then some more. But no, here's my fake boyfriend, creeping everybody out and making me shit myself and in the same time, and I am expected to act as if I am _glad_ to see him!

I don't even notice my drink is already finished, and I also don't notice the buzz it gives me. Jack, however, notices everything. He especially notices the lingering looks the handsome boy and I exchange.

"It's time to _leave-uh_ ", he growls into my ear, but I don't feel like listening to him, the music has changed to some sexy r'n'b and my hips start moving.

"I want to dance. With you.", I suddenly decide, much to his annoyance, "What? Is that too much to ask? Usually, boyfriends dance with their girlfriends."

If looks could kill, I would be _so dead_. But I stand my ground, so to speak, actually I dance my ground, and I'm tipsy enough to throw him a cheeky smile, inviting him to join me. He still just stands there, and I don't know what got into me, but I make it my personal life goal to make him dance with me.

"If you're not going to dance with me, that gorgeous guy in the corner will", I whisper into his ear, sliding my body dangerously close to his, "So, how about it, _boyfriend_?"

"You're pushing your luck", he hisses through his teeth but his hands are travelling around my waist.

I'm pretty surprised to find out that Jack Napier has excellent rhythm. His tall body moves with the music, elegantly and smoothly. His eyes – and his hands - do not leave me at any moment, and all my anger and fear disappear as I enjoy his attention. I don't know why that is (I certainly blame the booze), but it's like a rollercoaster of emotions I'm having tonight, and I never felt more of a teenager, mood changing every few minutes. From fearing him to wanting to provoke him, from hating him to admiring him, I just can't seem to make up my mind.

Right now, in my drunken mind, I realize how shabby his clothes are, and yet how nice he smells (I shamelessly dive my nose somewhere between his shoulder and neck), and how tall he is, and how nice his muscles feel under that stupid hoodie, and my body tells me to climb him like a tree.

Just as I look up to him to see if he's on the same page with me, and if all of this could lead to a kiss ( _oh God, when did this become an option?_ ), he stops dancing, takes my hand and pretty roughly drags me towards the exit.

"What's going on?", I demand as we exit the house.

"I'm taking you home.", he says angrily.

"But I wanted to stay some more!", I protest, "I didn't even say bye to Rachel!"

"You can text her later", he snaps at me, "Now get in the car."

I get into the car, and slam the door for good measure. He starts the engine and I feel close to tears. The entire evening is just too confusing for me. I came for a good time, and what I got was a god-damned mess.

"You'll thank me tomorrow.", he suddenly says.

"For what?", I honestly have no idea what he's talking about.

"When you sober up.", he dismisses me as if I was a child.

It's late in the night, and there is almost no traffic, so the car ride is over really quickly. He stops in front of my house and leans towards me. As he does so, I think that he's going to kiss me after all, and I don't even have the time to think if I want it or not. And then, to my shame and horror, it turns out that he just leaned over me in order to open my door.

"Get out.", he says plainly.

"Fuck you, Jack.", I say as I slam the door (again). I'm in no state to come up with anything clever, so a "fuck you" must do.

He looks at me through passenger window and his face shows no emotion whatsoever. I turn towards the house and slam the front door after me. I feel the tears finally coming as I hear his car driving away.


	9. Sunday bloody Sunday

Jack was frustrated. It was all going _wrong_.

He was slightly panting and leaning over a bruised and battered man that he just almost smashed into pieces. The fucker had some spirit, too. He was in his forties, a strong, bulky biker, and he just wouldn't recognize Jack as a threat. Jack was too young and too slender for the biker to take him seriously. Only when Jack pulled out his knife did the biker start to notice that things are about to get ugly. He actually managed to slap the knife out of Jack's hands, which made Jack _furious_ , so furious that Jack decided his bare hands would be more than enough to beat the living hell out of the biker.

And so he did.

However, the biker had a knife, too. Jack took a quick look at his wounds-a few superficial ones, but there was a lot of blood, anyway. As he turned away from the unconscious body, he felt the rage slowly leaving his body.

He couldn't do things this way anymore. Truth is, he noticed that the biker had a knife only when said knife was already cutting him. Next time, he could get seriously hurt. And over what? A simple job, threating some biker guy to return some money to some idiot mobster? Is that worth getting cut for? No, he had to keep it cool somehow, and save his rage for special occasions, not waste it on random jobs.

And what about this whole fitting-in-plan? He had _school_ tomorrow, people would notice that his hands are heavily bruised, and then the various cuts and whatnot..ok, mostly, people didn't really look at him that much, at least not to his face, but still.

Not to mention his fake girlfriend, that one was much more trouble than he anticipated. Jack felt part of his bad mood coming back as soon as he thought of Sonja and what happened the evening before.

He couldn't help it, he first had to pull out a mental image of how she looked yesterday evening, and boy, she looked like a god-damned heartbreaker. Her long hair loose, her body in that small dress, her legs long and slender, and then, when she kissed him..ok, it was just a little kiss, not a real one, but a kiss nevertheless..and then the way she danced with him, how she moved, how her body fit into his…

…if only it all wasn't because she was obviously drunk.

As if she would ever kiss him on the lips sober. As if she would throw him all those longing looks, come on. She was drunk, and also, she was afraid cause she knew she messed up big time, so she just wanted to be on his good side. That's it, nothing more.

And why the hell is this bothering him anyway? It's not like they're really dating, and it's not like he's interested in her. She's just another tool, something for him to use and throw away when he's done. So what does it matter if she looked nice or if she pressed her body against his - it wouldn't lead to _anything_.

He got to his car and slumped into it. Initially, he wanted to go over to her place. He needed to make sure she's calm and she wouldn't cause any fuss in school tomorrow. He has to ensure she'll play along - an upset woman is the last thing he needs right now in life. However, one look at his appearance is enough to give up on the idea of paying her a visit. His clothes are partially ripped from the fight, not to mention dirty, and he needs to take care of the cuts. He can't show up looking like that at her door, she'll have a nervous breakdown.

So he slowly drives back to his place, but as soon as he gets close to his neighbourhood, he notices a biker gang driving in the direction of his house. The biker jackets have the same markings as the biker who he just beat into a pulp had. This is too much of a coincidence, and Jack knows they are already searching for him.

He turns into an alley and drives back to the city, because _home_ is not an option right now. AS a matter of fact, his options are very limited: driving around all night and sleeping in his car (and surely meet some nice police patrol in the meantime), crashing one of the few abandoned houses he knew of (and fighting off the bums who squatted there), or..aww hell.

Well, he meant to pay her a visit anyway.

…

I spent the day moping, to be honest. I really can't claim that I'm above of feeling hurt and rejected. It's all really confusing, so I try to talk to myself through the day and work this mess out.

Obviously, I am interested in Jack. I can't help it. He's not like any other guy I met, and I know it sounds childish and stupid, and I know I'm very young and impressionable, and I know that 25-year-old me would probably roll her eyes at me. Fact is: I'm attracted to Jack. He's dangerous, he's frightening, he's rough, he doesn't even treat me nicely. And yet, in the few short days I've known him, I've already started obsessing over him. I know he's not boyfriend material, I know I should chose the boys I would like to date more reasonably, but hey, you know what? 25-year-old me can be reasonable. I am a teenager and I am allowed to be a bit stupid, ok?

On the other hand, there is this minor problem of him not wanting me. All he wants is obviously a fake girlfriend, and my yesterday's attempt of trying to become a _real_ one was totally unsuccessful. So, there you have it. My first heartbreak will be a real one, and over a fake boyfriend. That how I roll, folks.

If nothing else, I invest my misery into cleaning up, and when I'm done, the kitchen is sparkling. Just I decide that I deserve to get out of my old sweat shirt and into a hot bubbly bath, there's someone on the door.

Again, coward that I am, I stop breathing.

"I saw you through the window.", Jack says, and I am sure he's rolling his eyes as he's saying it.

"Jack?", I ask, just to be sure.

"Yeah.", he sounds tired.

"Oh.", I quickly open the door and let him in.

He stands there, a bit awkwardly, and it takes me a few seconds to realize the state he's in.

"What happened to you?", I almost yell at him as I quickly come closer to him.

"Ahhh…I had a little argument with a fella", he shrugs his shoulders and smiles a bit.

"You're bleeding!", I notice his fists.

"It's really nothing..", he tries to play it down.

"Yeah, I mean, you're bleeding on my carpet, go bleed on the tiles in the kitchen", I huff.

He actually laughs at that and obediently goes to the kitchen where he makes himself comfortable on the kitchen table.

"Please don't bleed on the furniture, I just cleaned everything up", I ask, "I'll go fetch some band-aids and alcohol or something, I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom."

I did see the first aid kit in the bathroom, but for the love of God, now that I need it, I can't find. I almost jump to the ceiling as he creeps up behind me.

"I figure it's better I clean up here than in the kitchen", he says, amused by my jumpiness.

"Suit yourself", I nod as I look around helplessly, "I just can't find the kit.."

"Have you tried the sink?", he suggests, and there it really is. I put it there just this afternoon, to remind myself to find a good spot for it, and then I forgot about it.

"Oh God. Okay.", I blush and then make my way out of the bathroom, "Call me if you need me."

I go back to the kitchen and spend the next ten minutes wondering if I should prepare something to eat, and if yes, what, and also if I am able to cook anything without burning it to hell and back. I decide that _Spaghetti Bolognese_ is a safe enough option, but before I have a chance to start, I hear Jack call my name.

"What is it?", I ask, standing in front of the half-shut bathroom door.

"I got a…uhm, scratch on my back, I can't reach it", he sighs with an annoyed tone, "What are you doing out there. Sonja? Come in. Silly thing."

"I didn't want to disturb your privacy", I say and then gasp a bit as I take in his bare torso. _Holy shit._ Now this is a sight to behold. Not that I have seen a lot of half-naked men, but still, I know fine when I see fine and this is _fine_. Broad shoulders, long, elegant arms, defined muscles – all of that screamed power and health and virility. Again, my tree-climbing tendencies roared back to life and I felt my face getting redder by the second. Jack looks at me carefully and I can see that he's analysing my reaction. I honestly feel as if sticking my head into the toilet would be less embarrassing.

"Here, take this", he hands me a gauze soaked with sterilising fluid, "Do my back."

"What kind of scratches are these? What did you do?", I ask as I carefully dab around a few angry lines on his back.

"It's nothing", he cuts me off.

My eyes trail over his skin and I have to put real effort in order _not_ to lean over and sniff him like a dog in heat. Also, I really want to touch his skin, and let my hands travel over his shoulders and…oh God. My hormones are probably playing one sadistic game with me. I need to remember he's not really my boyfriend. He's fake. Fake, fake, fake. I keep on repeating that in my head, and then I start to hum Taylor Swift's "Shake it off", of course the " _fakers gonna fake, fake, fake.._ " over and over again.

"Fake, huh?", nothing escapes his attention, not even my almost innocent humming.

I refrain from commenting. Then I see the front of his chest in the mirror and realize there are some more cuts in the front.

"I already did the front", he catches me looking.

"These aren't scratches", I say as I finish his back. He ignores my remark as he takes his shirt in order to put it on.

"Wait, I got clean t-shirts big enough for you.", I remember I found a stack of men's clothes in my aunt's closet. Some ex boyfriend's, probably. I dart to her room and soon enough I come back with a grey Soundgarden shirt and a pretty big black hoodie.

"Do you know who they even are?", he examines the shirt.

"It's not my shirt, but actually I do know Soundgarden", I snap back.

"Hey, you can't blame me. After yesterday, I'd say you're more into Bruno Mars or whoever", he grumbles.

"Bruno Mars is for dancing, Soundgarden is for _listening_ ", I say importantly and get a well-deserved eye-roll.

We go to the kitchen and I start making dinner. We are both silent and relaxed, and I almost forget to ask one very important question.

"What are you actually doing here?", I ask him.

"Uhm", he seems like for a moment, he forgot why he was here, "Well, I wanted to, hmm, talk to you. Because of yesterday. And also, I need a place to crash for a few nights."

"Excuse me?", I laugh in outrage, "You don't mean to stay _here_ , do you?"

"Actually, I do", he says nastily, "I'm sure my girlfriend, _fake_ or not, will be more than happy to have me around." The " _or else_ " was heavily implied.

"Ecstatic", I retort and add, "You can have the couch in the living room."

"The living room smells", he counters.

I almost say " _well, you smell too_ ", but that would be such a lie.

"Ok, take my aunt's room, but please don't trash it or anything. She told me not to enter it, let alone use it.", I sigh.

"That's settled then", he states with satisfaction, "Regarding the other thing. I mean, yesterday. Look, _doll face_ , as long as this whole fake dating is going on, you can't pull shit like that. You can't act as if you were single."

"So what, am I your prisoner?", I feel cornered and mad, "I can't go out, I can't hang around with friends, what do you actually mean by all that?"

"Could you skip the, uhm, the _drama_?", his voice gets a bit more nasal and I hate it, "You can go shopping with your girlfriends and stuff like that. But no flirting around, no partying alone."

I turn back to my overcooked spaghetti and wonder if I could possibly poison his plate somehow.

"Don't make it harder that it is", he says.

I don't comment but I am most certainly not pleased. We eat in silence and he throws me a questioning look here and there. I can't keep quiet anymore as a sudden wave of sadness hits me.

"You know, I never had a boyfriend. A relationship. So this", I wave my hand between the two of us, "That is all I know of relationships so far. You're my first boyfriend, and you're fake. I have a hard time coping with that."

He studies me seriously for a while, and I know he weighs what I said-how much true sadness there is, and how much self-pity. Finally, he finishes his plate and gets up to leave the room. He stops at the kitchen door and says without turning:

"Relationships are overrated, you'll learn that in time. So don't think this is less of a relationship just because it's fake.", he then throws me a nasty look over the shoulder, "I bet you'll have relationships much worse than this. One day, you'll pine your fake boyfriend."

 **A/N Guys, thank you so much for reading, liking, following, and most of all, commenting! Just as requested-this one is a bit longer!**


	10. Cute and evil

The next few days drag along mostly in awkward silence. Jack and Sonja see each other in school, for the most part. Although Jack sleeps in her aunt's house, she doesn't really see that much of him there: he comes and goes in the most unusual hours, he doesn't say where he's going and what he's doing, and she doesn't ask. If it weren't for the rumpled bed sheets in his bed she straightens every morning, and the occasional sounds of the shower being used, she wouldn't really know he is staying there, at all.

It is a bit of a let-down for Sonja, but she also feels some relief. At least she doesn't need to go all house-wifey for him; she actually keeps on living as if she were alone in the house. Still, sharing a household is making her feel a bit more comfortable around him, so she has no problem with pretending to be his girlfriend in school. They share a table ( _the_ table) for lunch, they often stroll down the hallways together, him holding her close, she often smiles at him with easy confidence. Sometimes they talk a bit, actually, she talks and he pretends to be listening. She avoids talking about topics that really interest her, like, where he got his scars from, and why he was full of bloody cuts the other night, and why he can't stay at his own place; she knows he would not answer. Instead, she talks about little snippets of her life: the cat she used to have in Croatia, her favourite movie, a book she started to read but is struggling with (Umberto Eco's _The Name of the Rose_ ). He doesn't contribute much to these conversations, a nod here, a grunt there, but for all intents and purposes, they do look like they are having a conversation. He notices that their peers don't stare at them as much and slowly are starting to accept them as a couple.

…

On Thursday, Rachel asked me to join her and some friends this Saturday for shopping. I was so happy, I agreed immediately, and only afterwards I remembered that moneywise, I'm really not in a good position. That reminded me to call about the translating job, and I was in luck, because the very next day I got called in for an interview. The agency looks for rare languages like Croatian, and after a few pretty simple tests, I became a part of their free-lance database. They'll call me as soon as something comes up. I hope that won't take too long, but still, that doesn't solve the fact that I need some cash _right now_ , and I will not spend the cash that is meant for food and bills.

The same evening, I go over the bills one more time to check if maybe I miscalculated, and maybe I can spare at least 20 bucks. 10 for the cinema, at least, and then I need a few dollars for popcorn, and what if the girls want coffee afterwards? Not to mention that shopping is out of the question-I'll have to pretend that I don't like any of the clothes. I guess I'll have to lie a lot.

Jack finds me sighing, sitting at the kitchen table.

"There's some pasta in the fridge, I can warm it up for you", I say, my voice dripping in depression.

"I just..", he doesn't bother finishing the sentence as he opens the fridge and grabs the milk. He drinks he right out the container. I frown at him.

"What?", he asks me as if genuinely surprised.

"Nothing.", I am not his mother and it is not my duty to teach him basic manners. Pig.

"What's wrong with you?", he asks me as if I am a car that needs a part to be replaced and then it will run _just fine_.

"I'm broke, that's what's wrong with me", I say as I cross my arms over my chest defiantly, "My aunt left me with minimal cash, only for bills and the cheapest food."

"Find yourself a job", he murmurs as he sits down at the table, milk still in hand.

"I did. I had a job interview today, for translations, remember? They'll call me as soon as Croatian is in demand.", I try not to feel offended as he half snorted, half laughed at the mention of my native language and the demand for it, "Rachel asked me to go to the movies and shopping tomorrow. I will have to cancel, I can't go without some money-it would be so embarrassing!"

He drinks some more milk and then looks at me.

"What is it with women and shopping", he grumbles, "I've seen your wardrobe, you have _plenty_ of clothes."

"That's not the point..", I am about to start explaining the importance of female bonding caused by shopping and hanging out, but then I realize what I just heard, "Wait, what? You've seen my closet? When? ..and _why_?"

"Few days ago.", he shrugs his shoulders, "I was curious."

"That's really creepy", I blush and feel extra stupid since I mostly feel embarrassed because my closet i messy – I should feel outraged because of the violation of my intimacy, right?, "Keep out of my room if I'm not in it, in the future!"

"But you were in there", he smiles gleefully at my confused expression, "You were sleeping."

"Ewww, Jack!", my face is probably tomato-red, I usually sleep only in panties and chemise, "Come on! What the fuck, you can't do that!"

"Oh, I can", he smiles with all the self-satisfaction in the world.

I really feel embarrassed, and I don't know where to look, so he decides to show me some mercy and gets up to leave. However, before he does so, he takes something out of his pocket and shoves it on the table in front of me.

"This should be enough for a girls' night out", he says.

"What?", I realize he's giving me cash. A lot of it.

"I mean, I've been crashing here for a while now, eating your food and stuff..it's only fair I contribute something.", I see he's trying not to make a big deal about this.

"This is..wait, 300 dollars? That's too much! I mean, any amount is too much - I wasn't asking you for money, I was just, you know, complaining...", I can't believe that he has so much money-where did he get it?

"I know. Just take the money and have a nice time.", he leaves the kitchen before I can ask any questions he doesn't want to answer.

…

And I _do_ have a nice time and I spend just a fraction of the money. I found myself a nice shirt, we went to the movies, I got to know Rachel's friends Bettina and Pam (nice girls, but I still like Rachel best), we went to Starbucks and had some of those whacky American cappuccinos. I feel a bit guilty for accepting Jack's money, no matter how much I try to explain it away to myself as just rent money, still I feel like I shouldn't just throw this money around.

However, I spot a little something in a shop and can't resist buying it: it's not for me, it's for Jack. A little thank-you gift for my blackmailing fake boyfriend, it's a Zippo lighter, engraved with a little Joker figure. I don't know why, but somehow the little Joker reminds me of him. Cute and evil. Just like Jack. The girls giggle as I show them what I got him, and then I'm attacked by zillion questions about how we met and what _he is like_. Seems like he's more popular than he thinks, these girls want to know all there is to know about him. Mostly, I lie through my teeth, since the majority of the things I am being asked I simply don't know, and the rest of it is a mix of half-truths and my pathetic wishes. I guess Jack would be pretty furious if he knew that I've been telling the girls he was "actually very cuddly" and loves to "watch romantic movies". But the girls seemed so amused, and I so very much want to be a part of their clique, my mouth just kept on running..let's hope he won't find out.

…

The evening was long and tedious. First, I had to drop off a package containing God-knows-what to a guy. That got me a solid $200. Then I went to Mike 'cause he've been calling me for 3 days in row and I kept on ignoring him. I knew it had to do with the biker guys and didn't feel like listening to him. However, if I want to those jobs to keep coming, I couldn't avoid him any longer.

"Aww kid, what the fuck did you do", that's how Mike greets me when I enter his restaurant.

"What", I roll my eyes as I slump in the first free booth. I don't feel like being stared at by every single mobster in there.

"I mean, did you have to beat the guy into a pulp?", Mike sighs as he plumps down opposite to me.

"You wanted him warned", I shrug.

"Yeah, I thought, a broken leg, worst case scenario. Not an induced coma. Like, seriously, what the fuck.", Mike tried to come through to me, "And then with the sloppiness again. His biker buddies saw you leaving."

"Yeah, whatever", I was annoyed by my mistake, and now I was even more annoyed when the same mistake was pointed out to me repeatedly.

"What do you mean, whatever", Mike almost yells, "Do you know they burned your neighbours god-damned house down?"

"What, Razim's place?", my brows go up as I remember my drug dealing neighbour. _Nice fella._

"They weren't sure which house was yours, and one of Razim's not-so-satisfied customers showed them his house instead of yours.", Mike chuckles, "So where are you staying then?"

"I found a place", I answer vaguely.

Mike, however, catches on something, a brief expression on my face, a weird look, something tips him off. "Oh, I bet you found a _place_.", he chuckles, "Between some gal's legs."

I just roll my eyes heavily and Mike takes that as a confirmation. "Tony, you hear that? Our Jackie found himself a nice young lady!"

"Yeah, as long as he invests that energy into pounding her ass and not beating our fucking customers within an inch of life..", Tony murmurs.

"Oh fuck off, Tony. The boy just had a bad day, right?", Mike smiles a bit at me, "Just take a bit more care next time. We had some trouble with the bikers afterwards, you know. Those guys figured out you are one of ours. Keep it low, ok?"

He then gives me jobs for the next week and also offers me to redeem myself this evening: I am supposed to collect some money from some guy, and if he hasn't got it, beat him up a little. I get $300 in advance for that. No problem.

So I drive straight out to that guy's place, and I'm a mighty bit irritated because Mike again has put an idea in my head, and this time it's me finding a place "between a gal's legs". That makes me remember how Sonja slept in her bed; the little clothing she wore hiding almost nothing. That makes me think of further things, and suddenly I decide I should beat up the guy (if necessary) really quickly, and then go back to her place instantly, and then, then, then what? Then I don't know, but hopefully something involving her legs. Spread open. For me.

Fucking Mike and his fucking planting of ideas in my had. It doesn't help to be so distracted when you're in trouble. And surely, I'm in trouble really soon. The guy, of course, doesn't have the money. But you know what he has? He has two pretty big friends who are eager to fight.

 _Well, let's do this._

 **A/N OK, we're 10 chapters in and nothing happened lemon-wise. That'll change in the next chapter :)**

 **Thank you again for giving your time to this story! As always-comments are most welcome!**


	11. Cheap thrills

It's Saturday evening and finally I feel good. I had a great time out with Rachel and the girls, I did some shopping, I even got something for Jack, and I still got a substantial sum of money left. Even if I don't earn a dime during the next week, I'll still have enough to repeat this day during the next weekend. However, I do hope I will make some money soon-time flies fast and I want to make most of my stay here. And that requires money.

I'm home alone – I figure Jack is God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. _Probably something shady_ , I think to myself but instantly feel guilty about judging him. Truth is, I don't know lot about him and what he does. For all I know, maybe he is working in some car shop, slogging to make up for the money that I spent so carelessly today. However, the annoying little voice in me doubts that. _He probably does something shady_ , I think again and then wilfully push that issue out of my mind. The night is still young and I feel great; I don't want to waste my energy on things I have no control over.

Since I believe that I have the house for myself, I decide to make it really comfortable for me. First I take a nice hot bath, and I up the ante by pouring myself some red wine that earlier I found hidden in my aunt's closet. After that, I jump into my huge old t-shirt and I pretend it's a short dress instead of an oversized shirt. My hair's up in a messy bun, and I find a music channel on TV, turn out most of the lights, and - wine in hand - I dance like there's no tomorrow.

 _No I ain't got cash!_

 _I ain't got cash!_

 _But I got you baby!_

 _Baby I don't need dollar bills to have fun tonight_

 _I love cheap thrills…_

I sing along and try out my best moves, but I guess I look silly. Luckily, I had the good sense to turn down the lights and spare everyone passing by out on the street a good show. Then I remember that Jack could come home ( _home? really? since when is this his home?_ ) and that maybe I should turn the party down a notch. I don't think he would be happy to see me drinking and doing silly stuff.

I put away the wine (it gave me just a bit of a buzz), and I turn down the music. I push my head in the fridge hoping to find anything other than old pasta (of course, no luck). I feel a bit angry at myself for not letting myself having as much fun as I want because of Jack, and also, I feel confused as to why I do so – he has never threatened me or told me I'm not allowed to dance in my own house? Still, I clearly feel it would be better to avoid trouble with him, so I censure myself.

Just as I pull my head out of the fridge (I have that stupid habit of opening the fridge and then staring at nothing for ages), and finally close it, I get this creepy, creepy feeling.

Somebody is watching me, I'm suddenly very aware of that. I feel the tiniest hairs on my body standing up. I turn my head slowly, filled with dread, and then I exhale with tremendous relief.

It's Jack. It's _only_ Jack. Standing in the frame of the kitchen door, staring at me without blinking.

"Jack! You _scared_ me!", I half-laugh and half-yell at him.

He doesn't say a word, but I see his eyes scanning me from head to toe and back. Slowly.

"Jack..wait, what happened? Are you bleeding..again?", I finally take notice of his bruised face and a thin trail of blood trickling down his chin from a small but deep cut in the corner of his mouth.

I take two quick steps towards him (instinctively, I want to help him, see to his wounds, _something_ , I don't know) and then, when I notice the way he looks at me, I take one more step but it is with hesitation, and then I stop dead in my tracks.

His eyes take one more grand tour of my body, and a little smile that I find frightening forms on his lips as he undoubtedly recognizes just how short my makeshift "dress" is.

Something inside of me tells me to " _Run_!", but I stand still, because, help me God, but the way he looks at me scares me and flatters me in the same time. I try to say something, I want to offer him help with his bruises and cuts – it looks like he's been in a really nasty fight – but I can't manage to squeeze out another word.

I take one little step back and his smile widens. He takes one step towards me and once again I realize just how taller and stronger than me he is. What was I thinking to let this man, who can overpower me easily, stay with me in the same house?!

I take another little step back, and he takes another big one towards me, and his smile turns now into an openly predatory one, and I realize _I am the prey_ here. That little voice inside of me is now yelling "RUN RUN RUN!" and suddenly, I jump to the side, trying to make the most of the surprise factor. I actually make it past him and run through the kitchen door, but in the small hallway I can already almost feel his body heat right behind me, and my plan to slam the door to my room into his face fails spectacularly as he grabs me by the arm.

He turns me towards him and pulls me close. His eyes are glistening and the wonderful scent of his body is surrounding me like an invisible cloak. I close my eyes and I know that resistance is futile.

…

The beating he took that evening was serious. His body took blow after blow, but this made his ultimate victory even more glorious. He managed to put both big guys to sleep, and the third one – the one who actually owed money to the mob – had the courtesy to lose consciousness after just one solid blow to his jaw.

This was more work than Jack had anticipated, but instead of feeling worn out, he felt adrenaline being pumped through his body, and never in his young life – notwithstanding the bruises and cuts – did he feel more stronger and more of a _man_.

Usually he wasn't the type of young man that is constantly bugged by his sexual desire, he rarely felt such needs, and usually he willed them away, thinking of them as a low pastime for people with no imagination whatsoever. However, _now_ , he felt his body _aching_ for release. Right now, he was a slave to his baser needs, and he felt like needed _soft, warm, feminine, tight, wet, welcoming, curves, perfume, nuzzle, rut, invade, own, hold, kiss, take, give, mine, mark, only mine!_

He doesn't even remember the ride back to her house.

He finds her in the kitchen and her deer-like stare instantly reveals her fear, then her realization and lastly, her _anticipation_.

She does what she needs to do, what she is expected to do – she runs, and he lets her have her little run, but not far enough, never out of the reach of his long arms.

As he finally grabs her, he takes one more moment to look at her and admire her beauty, and she is beautiful, he thought so from the very first he saw her in class, she is radiantly beautiful, different from other girls. There is something about her, the lines of her face could be described as almost cold, but there was this inner fire she had, a combination that he didn't really acknowledge until very recently, and now a combination that drew him in.

This patient serenity lasts only for a few moments, and as she closes her eyes, he knows he has won.

He holds her closely and leans in to kiss her. He takes his time, and slowly discovers her lips with his own. She doesn't resist, but it takes a while until she finally responds. Every little touch of their lips causes a pleasant jolt that travels through his body. She leans a tiny bit into him, and his hands start to travel down her body.

He gentlemanly avoids her breasts at first and settles at her waist, but as their kiss deepens, she lets out a small moan.

It was just a small moan, but it could have been a hand grenade just the same. Jack felt the lust inside of him roar up, and kissing in the doorway of her room surely wasn't enough, not even nearly. Holding her closely, he simply walked them both inside her room and then -not gently, but also not roughly- showed her onto her bed.

The landing on her bed woke her up from the haze induced by their pretty heated kiss, and he noticed fear and uncertainty creep up in her again. Before she had the chance to do something tiresome like running away, he crawled over her and sat up, practically pinning her down with his weight.

"Jack, we should stop", she said, but her heart was not in it.

He took his sweet time taking his sweater off, and he knew by the sudden silence that she caught sight of his bare torso. He held his arms up for a few seconds longer than necessary, letting her enjoy the show. A proud smile graces his face as he feels her fingers tentatively wander over his abs. He looks down at her and she responds with a shy smile.

"I will not stop", he hovers over her and whispers. She lifts her head a bit, searching for another kiss, agreeing wordlessly. Her heart beats fast, and she doesn't know if she can handle whatever it is that awaits her.

 _TO BE CONTINUED…_

 **A/N**

 **Ok, don't kill me because of the cliffhanger. This part of the story is obviously delicate and I realized that it would be simply too big as one chapter.**

 **Also, I am not exactly sure how to continue. I mean, there will be smexy times for those two in this story, that much is for sure, but I don't know if that will be now or later or I dunno...guys, help! Let me know your suggestions!**

 **As always, thank you for reading, for every single one of your clicks and comments-I honestly appreciate it!**


	12. Cheap Thrills (Part II)

**A/N: This time I put the notes at the top, we got the following warning: a bit of non-con, mentions of rape, and some violence. And lemons. So..you know. Let me know if you liked his or not – I loved it, but I'm known for my peculiar tastes and can't be really objective here anyway…**

Oh my God, this is so _exciting_.

This is so _different_ from what I have imagined it would be like.

This is so _real_. And just the fact that it's real is making it even more exciting.

 _Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening!_

My senses are overloaded, and I keep on losing focus. And nothing serious has even happened yet – we're just kissing! Ok, it's not just kissing, he's on top of me, and my t-shirt is somehow missing.

I can feel his weight and I enjoy the feeling of being pinned down by it. I also enjoy how his bare skin touches mine, and when he stars pulling on my bra, I immediately arch my back in order to make space for his hand on my back. It takes him a second to realize what I'm doing and then I feel his hand fumbling around the clasp of my bra. It takes him a few moments of open war with the offending item and for a second I fear he might just rip it off, but he is victorious and suddenly I feel pretty naked. I mean, I am naked, if you don't count the very little silly knickers I got on.

I can't help it, I instantly cover my breasts. He glares at me briefly and decidedly takes my hands away. I blush and my heart is about to explode as he stares as them – I mean, I like my boobs, _I have nice boobs!_ But I never showed them to a guy. _Never_.

He doesn't stare too long, he obviously likes what he sees. He lowers his head and I feel like I'm made entirely of butterflies as he takes one nipple into his mount and gently sucks. Oh. _Oh_! This feels good. Suddenly, he adds just a bit of teeth into it and playfully nibbles on my nipple, and I let out a very girlish giggle at that. He shots me an amused look and I can't resist to run my fingers through his unruly hair. He hums in delight, and I feel kind of proud that he feels good because of me. He plays with my boobs and I don't think about hiding them anymore. Just the contrary, I long for every touch, kiss, lick and nibble he has in store for me, and I can feel my whole body pleasantly vibrating.

But soon the whole affair comes to a new level as his hand travels down my belly, and then, without any trace of hesitation, right into my panties. I can't really describe what he does _there_ , but it's a feeling that drives me crazy and throws all my inhibitions through the windows. I moan pretty loudly, and my body is doing a dance of its own as I'm trying to get him closer to me, and kissing any part of him that is in kissing distance.

A few times I feel _something_ grazing my legs lightly, and it's bare flesh, and it surely isn't his _leg_. When the hell did he manage to get the rest of his clothes off, I'll never know.

I'm now full of mixed feelings. First of all, I'm in bed with Jack, and he's _very_ naked, and _very_ horny. Things are going to happen. And I'm a whole lot excited but also a bit afraid. This is all new to me. ON the other hand, I feel a bit ashamed to be only on the receiving end of all this good stuff, and I don't want him to think that I don't, uhm, I dunno, like his body or what he does to me, because I definitely do.

So, in the same time, having in mind how very bravely he reached down on me, I do the same to him ( _who would have ever thought that a dick can be so hard, and the skin on it so soft and smooth? I never knew_ ); and also I tell him that " _I never did this stuff before, you know_ ".

His reaction is just as mixed as the actions that caused it. When it comes to my hand on his dick, he's obviously pleased, judging by how his body tensed and he leaned his whole weight into my hold. However, the annoyed look on his face has probably something to do with what I said.

He opens his eyes (they were half-shut until now) and looks as if he is scanning the situation, which is me under him, legs pretty much spread, one of his hands on my embarrassingly wet pussy and one of my hands on his more than ready member.

Stupidly, I do the same, namely, I _look_. And the first thing I realize that his dick is way too big – _that thing can't possibly fit into me!_ This is going to _hurt_! _Red alert, abort mission!_

I lightly squirm under him, but before I have the chance to verbalize my idea of taking a rain check, he grumbles:

"Don't make a big deal out of it, doll face. Doesn't mean we're in love or something."

"What?", I look at him, perplexed.

"You virgins are always making such a big deal, as if a guy owes you something just because he was the first one", he rolls his eyes and has the audacity to take himself out of my hand and line himself up.

"Forget about it", I snarl as I try to push him off me. I can't believe this guy. Is this what you tell a girl who is about to give you something really unique and special?!

"Cold feet, huh?", he doesn't move an inch as he moves the head of his dick through my folds. It's a pleasant enough feeling, but I'm so not having _that_ right now!

"Get off of me!", I feel a bit of fear and a lot of rage. He should let me go, like, right now!

"I said I would not stop, and I'm a man of my word", he says seriously, and I realize he actually means it. I also realize that I am second away from being raped, and my survival instincts kick in. I literally have one shot, and without faltering, I free one of my legs and swing it up between his legs with all I got.

He just falls to the side of the bed, his face in pure agony, and I crawl out of the bed, tangling myself into bedsheets, and thus losing a few valuable seconds. As I finally dart out of my room, I can see him already getting to his feet.

I run towards the kitchen. I don't run because I think that I can outrun him, I know I can't. I'm running to the kitchen because that's the place where I'm most likely to find a weapon.

…

 _That fucking BITCH!_

Jack hasn't felt such fury in ages. He was seconds away from really enjoying himself, and everything seemed more than good, she was willing, her legs were spread for him (just as he imagined), and out of nowhere, _she changes her fucking mind_.

And not only that. She pulls the lowest move there is and kicks him in the balls.

Jack didn't really mind that much the pain, he was regularly fighting and beating people, and here and there he got beaten up, too. Like that same evening, actually. So, he was no stranger to pain. He was used to the weird and very unpleasant feeling of getting a fist into the face, or receiving blows to the abdomen. He knew how it felt to lie down and be kicked like a dog. All of that he had gone through and probably will get through again. It was part of the _job_.

However, what you can't get used to, and what is frowned upon between even the most cowardly of men fighting, is kicking a guy's balls. Like, come on.

The rage he feels help him overcome the excruciating pain he's in. He gasps for air and gets up just as she's running out of the room, and follows her as quickly he can.

He loses sight of her as she makes a quick left, entering the kitchen. She'll probably try to take the window as an escape route. In the last second, he realizes that a kitchen is a place filled with knifes and other objects that may cause harm, and he instinctively ducks a bit as he enters the kitchen.

This probably spares him a severe head injury, because the next thing he sees is an enraged Sonja swinging a heavy frying pan with all her might at his head. He manages to avoid his head being hit and probably smashed to pieces, but his shoulder takes the majority of the blow. She goes in for another swing but he's more prepared now and quickly slams the god-damned pan out of her hands.

The next things he knows, she already has a huge kitchen knife in her hand, and she looks ready to use it. _Fine_ , he thinks, _if that's how you want to play it._

"You'll just hurt yourself, doll face", he smirks at her and then, he doesn't even have time to think "oh shit", because she _actually throws the knife at him_.

She obviously hadn't done that before in her life, the throw was way too weak and not precise enough, so he simply slaps the knife away mid-air. But the lack of any hesitation she has just shown is what worries him a bit.

"Are you fucking crazy!", he yells at her, reaching out to grab her and favourably, slap her silly.

"YES I AM!", she screeches back as she grabs a wine bottle that was left on the counter and breaks it on same counter, holding the bottle, now full of sharp edges, on the upper part and threateningly thrusting it towards him.

"You're fucking crazy.", he takes a few steps back and surprisingly, quickly cools off. His reason kick back in, and he evaluates the situation. They are butt-ass naked, being very loud, trashing half the house – cops are bound to come soon, she lives in a good-enough neighbourhood. The day was shitty enough. He doesn't need to get arrested, too.

He slowly walks out of the kitchen, not turning his back to her, and shakes his head a bit at the crazy sight of his naked fake girlfriend eyeing him suspiciously.

 _Jesus Christ_. _That's what you get from taking fucking mob advice._


	13. What seems to be the problem, officer?

Sunday comes and goes. I go through a minor panic attack, then I clean up the mess that I made in the kitchen the evening before, then I wonder how come no one called the police last night, then I wonder where Jack slept that night, then I feel guilty because I threw a knife at him, and then I get angry because I had every reason to throw a knife at him. All of this ends up leaving me numb inside, and Monday morning finds me in bed, not willing to get up.

I sleep on for two more hours. Eventually I get up, put my make up on, do my hair, find a nice outfit and go to school. I still feel empty inside: it's like the quiet before the storm. And the storm will come as soon as I see Jack Napier, I know that.

….

 _She's skipping classes, that melodramatic girlie. She's probably tumblring around, sharing her "survival story", complaining how she practically got raped but found her inner feminine power to save herself. Psycho bitch._

People are making a bigger circle around him than usual, and he can't blame them. He felt exhausted, irritated and annoyed beyond belief. He stayed at his own house, but only after he kicked out the new tenants he found there, namely Razim (his friendly drug-dealing neighbour) and his posse, who had the _audacity_ to blame _him_ for their house being burned down by the biker gang.

He thought about checking on Sonja this Sunday, just to remind her what's what, but he simply couldn't zfind the willpower and the energy for handling her crazy ass. Instead, he thought about how to get rid of her: could he dump her? They weren't an item in the first place. Should he really call the authorities on her? It was a tempting idea, but there was another idea which was even more tempting, and it involved her being naked underneath him…God damn it! He was _so close_ to having her, _so close_!

He cursed himself for being so weak, he cursed his own dick for enthusiastically standing up every time the memory of her, naked, came to his mind. That more or less settled it – obviously, in order to be able to get rid of her, he first had to have her. After that, he could kick her ass back to Eastern Europe.

The day was dragging along slowly, and finally maths was over (her seat next to his suspiciously empty). He went out of the classroom as an official-looking man waved him over. He immediately noticed he was a cop, even without the uniform, so he put on his most nonchalant, neutral look.

"Jack Napier?", the tall guy asked, and Jack just nodded, "I'm with Gotham PD. I have a few questions for you."

"Ok.", Jack shrugged his shoulders and leaned on a locker.

"I'm investigating a breaking & entering at Marble Square, five days ago", the cop immediately cut to the case, and Jack respected that, "I am not saying you're a suspect, but it would help if you could tell me where you were."

 _Hmm, I am not saying you're a suspect, but I'm saying that you actually are a suspect._ And rightly so. Jack didn't do the breaking and entering on that one, but he did drive the getaway car. It was just a small job, they took a few thousands from some tiny bank branch. It was more about sending a message. They even got to keep most of the money. But how did the cops connect him to that? He had a mask, so nobody could identify him. Do they have a rat?

"I really have no idea where you got your info from. Guess it's easier to blame it on the weird looking kid. Or the black kids. Fuck that shit, man", Jack gave his best impression of a disgruntled teen.

"Just answer my questions and let's be over with it", the cop rolled his eyes a bit but lowered his tone. You never know with the kids these days. They put everything online and make a big deal out of nothing.

"OK, what day was that last week..?", Jack tried to gain some extra time to come with some good story. His brain was dangerously empty and he started feeling a bit nervous.

"Wednesday. Around nine in the evening. Where were you?", the cop now outright stared at him.

"Think fast!", out of nowhere, Sonja jumped on a very surprised Jack, entangling her long legs around his waist and then kissing him on the tip of his nose, "Let's go to the canteen, I'm starving!"

"Uhm, Sonja, I'm in the middle of a conversation...", Jack tried to catch her look desperately and signal her to play along.

"Uh?", Sonja got off of Jack and turned to the cop, flashing him a bright smile, "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"I was just asking your..boyfriend?..where he was last Wednesday evening. I'm with the Gotham PD", the cop looked at Sonja and wondered if it was really true that girls like bad boys. Because Jack Napier surely seemed like one rotten guy.

"And did you tell him?", Sonja asked Jack pointedly and managed to blush a bit, pushing a few lose strands of her hair back. Suddenly, she seemed as she was embarrassed, and Jack immediately understood what she is playing at.

"I was just about to..I mean, it's a police officer asking me..", Jack acted as if he doesn't want to share their little secret. He then turned to the cop, "We were together, in my car, the entire evening."

"Doing what..?", the cop decided to play stupid, and Sonja managed the most convincing blush imaginable.

"Yeah, we were..", Jack watched the floor like all the secret of life are written on it.

"I really don't think that's anyone's business", Sonja interrupted him, "We were listening to music and driving around, okay? That's all, okay?"

"Okay, okay", the cop smiled, and then turned to Jack once more, "Don't leave town. It's possible we'll need to talk to you again."

"Sure thing", Jack shrugged his shoulders again and then took Sonja's hand, "Let's go get something to eat."

As they strolled down the hallway, Jack wondered if she is still playing along or if she possibly _really_ is crazy. Either way, she did a fine job helping him out.

"Good job", he decided to verbalize some of his thoughts.

"Don't you talk to me.", she hissed through another bright smile and murder in her eyes.

While this didn't help Jack regarding his previous doubt of her sanity, he was now sure of one thing: _he definitely is in the dog house_. Getting between her legs got that much more challenging and interesting.

…

It was dumb coincidence, really. I was on the hallway when I heard some girl talking to another girl how there is this cop who is asking where to find Jack Napier. I didn't even stop to think about it, I just ran and searched for Jack. I found him in another hallway, already talking to some guy who seemed old and out of place, so I guessed he is the cop. I somehow knew that situations like _this_ are the reason that Jack picked me to be his fake girlfriend, and boy, did he pick well! Not even thinking if I would be maybe better off if he got arrested or something similar, I literally jumped into his (unsuspecting) arms and then pulled the whole "he couldn't have done it, officer, he was doing _me_ the entire night"-scheme.

And now he's holding my hand as if he has all the right in the whole wide world to do so, and I enjoy it, and I also hate that I enjoy it. He should be crumbling down at my feet and beg for forgiveness, he should smack himself silly, he should apologize a thousand times. But no, he's throwing me these intrigued looks, as if I am the weird one here?!

And then he says something, and I don't even know what it is, I just go off like a rocket and hiss at him to shut his mouth.

A few steps later, I can't take it anymore, and I wrest my hand out of his and simply turn and go away. I just need to get away, I need to go home and slam the door and then have a good cry. I can feel his stare boiling holes into my back, but he doesn't follow, and a part of me feels relief, and the other part feels even more rage.

I am a wreck today.


	14. So guess what

Tuesday isn't much better.

I go to school, I even have a class with him, I sit next to him and endure his stares. We sit together at "our" lunch table and he tries to tell me something, but I just turn my head. I think I hear a quiet "crazy bitch" snarl, but I just put my nose high up in the air.

He can't leave it be (and the failed feminist part of me is glad because of it): as we leave the canteen, he not only escorts me to my class, but also casually puts his arm around my shoulders. I just look in front of me as my hand rests low on his back. I feel the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt and suddenly I want nothing more than to rub myself all over him. Stupid teenage hormones will be the death of me. However, as soon as we are in front of my classroom, I just continue walking in without even looking at him, and just leave him standing there like a dog in the rain. I wish I could see his angry stare but settle for the confused looks of a few students who watch our little show (at me, they look with confusion, and at him, with fear - as I notice feeling evil satisfaction).

After school's over, I'm a bit disappointed (I am ashamed to admit it!) that he's nowhere to be seen – I guess he has his limits, too. But who cares? He surely didn't respect my limits, why should I respect his?

"Sonja, hi there!", Rachel startles me out of my daydreaming.

"Rachel!", I beam as I see her.

"Are you ok?", she nudges me lightly, "You seemed a bit down today."

"Ah, don't ask..", I roll my eyes.

"Is it Jack?", she guesses.

"It _is_ Jack", I sigh, "Do you have time for a quick coffee? I could use a friend right now."

"Sure!", she agrees quickly, to my tremendous relief - I slipped that "friend"-part. I'm not sure if we're that close already, "I have my troubles with Bruce, so I wouldn't mind a friend right now, too!"

She couldn't make me happier. We spend the next hour over a cappuccino and muffins, complaining about _men_ and feeling so _adult_.

Obviously, I have to lie a lot and what happened last weekend between Jack and I turns into a "little fight", and not "attempted rape, broken glass and thrown knives". I wonder if she does the same, and if there is something more behind the argument she had with Bruce recently. She tells me that they argued because she is annoyed about him leading almost a double life, showing one face in high school (where he is all fun and games) and another one at home (where he is supposedly very withdrawn and somber). Is that all there is to it, or is there more, I wonder. I don't know why, but as I look at Rachel, I can catch a moment here and there where she actually carefully chooses her words, and in those moments, she reminds me of myself, how I carefully choose my words concerning Jack.

Maybe this is why Rachel and I got along so well so quickly - we both have to lie on behalf of the boys closest to us.

…

As I come home, I am happy to receive an email from my translation agency, asking if I would take a job translating a box of old letters from Croatian into English. They sent me a scan of one of them-they're hand written. The pay is really good and I find old letter so romantic, so I happily agree to take the job.

My phone beeps again, and I expect another mail from the agency informing me when and where I can pick up the box with the letters I'm supposed to translate. But the beep was not an email, it's a text message – from an unknown number.

 _Feeling better?_

I wonder who that might be, and I am 90% sure it's simply a wrong number. The only two people who I know here – my aunt and Rachel – are already memorized contacts in my phone. Still, that annoying little voice is there and it tells me it is Jack.

 _Hi there, thanks for asking, but you got the wrong number :)_

That's a neutral and nice enough reply, right?

 _No I don't_

I shiver as I read that. It sounds like something a serial killer would write. Suddenly I find myself _hoping_ it's _only_ Jack.

 _Jack? How did you get my number?_

 _I called my phone from yours._

The "duh" is implied and I already feel the first signs of serious annoyance coming up.

 _Could you not take my things without asking? Can you even grasp that concept?_

 _Could YOU possibly be a bit nicer? Or is NOT THROWING KNIVES at people your concept of nice_

 _You deserved that and you know it very well! I'm only sorry I missed!_

For ten long minutes, I don't get a reply, and then my phone beeps again.

 _I am trying to be nice here._

I can't help myself. I know he's trying to be nice and I know it pushes him out of his comfort zone. But It's as if he is asking for it, and I am mad enough to give it to him. So I type.

 _What, do you want a medal?_

As soon as I press "send", I know I made a mistake. A few seconds pass, and then I hear a car door being slammed, and as I wonder if that could be Jack's car, I already hear angry footsteps, and as I realize _this could be Jack_ , my front doors burst open.

I jump to my feet and do my best to run away. I make it to my aunt's bedroom door and then I feel his hand grabbing my arm with the force of a bulldozer. He yanks me around and I meet his eyes and freeze because I see rage in them, rage as I have never seen in anyone before.

I can't find my voice: I can't say anything, I can't even scream, I can just feel pure fear. He watches me and he not only sees that fear, but also enjoys it. He pushes me to the door frame and I see that he _likes_ that he can push me around like a ragdoll. He does that for a few minutes-he pushes me away, and just as I try to gain a few centimetres of extra distance, _a little imaginary safe space of my own_ , he invades that space again and pushes me somewhere else.

I grow more and more agitated and when I finally try to push back, even a little, he immediately raises the stakes and tears my blouse apart. The rage that raises in me because of this helps me overcome my fear, and now I try to slap him. He just slaps my hand away, and I try to slap and hit him a few more times, but he defends himself with such ease – as I try my hardest to hit him! – that he actually starts to laugh. This makes me even more mad and I continue my assault with renewed vigor. He eventually gets bored with my weak attempts and his focus shifts to my bra that will soon capitulate because of my beating around.

In an instant, I am thrown on the bed and he is over me. He is still angry, but I see a healthy dose of lust in his eyes.

"Don't you dare", I hiss, "Remember the last time you tried!"

"Oh, I remember", he says and simply pushes my legs apart and lies between them, and pins my arms with his. I try and try and squirm and worm around in order to close my legs again, and he lets me do so, and he even has the nerve to grin at me, and first I think it's because I don't manage to get away, not even a little, but then I feel his boner and realize that all that squirming is giving him nice friction. I instantly stop and shoot him an angry glare.

"You are very annoying, you know?", he whispers in my ear, "But you're also very pretty when you're angry, so glare at me all you want."

And then he lowers his lips on my neck and starts kissing me. He is taking his time as his lips travel from my ear to my collar bone and back. First on one side, and the slowly on the other. And I just lie there, pinned down, surrounded by his scent, feeling the weight of his body, feeling his arousal, feeling my heart beat going up, and I can't deny it anymore: my body betrayed me again, _and I love it_ , I simply love to feel his lips, I love how his hand gently travels to my waist, I love it when he touches me.

As soon as his lips are close to mine again, I lean in and kiss him, deeply and passionately. Only when my fingers travel through his hair do I realize that he has let me arms free a long time ago. I also realize that my hips are squirming again, but not in order to get me away, but to get some of that delicious friction.

I pull at his shirt and he immediately takes it off, and I let out a happy sigh as I see and touch the beauty that is his torso. He uses my lack of focus to rip my bra away, and I don't even care, I never like that bra anyway. What I do care about is his mouth on my breasts and the sensations cause by it.

Now things can't go fast enough for either of us, and we fumble our ways out of the rest of our clothes and then continue where we were before, and that's me shamelessly spreading my legs for him, and him touching me everywhere. I am very aware of his erection, and a very small part of me worries about the size and the eventual pain.

His hand is now between my legs, and I realize I'm very, _very_ wet. I take that as a good sign and then lose any control I had (as if I had any!) as he does things with his fingers. I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as I feel closer and closer to something, not really sure what it is, I just know I want _more_.

"More", I manage to moan, "More. Now."

He smiles so prettily.

And then I feel a pressure down there, no, make that _inside of me_. He watches me closely and then pushes a bit more and I feel a sting, no, a stab, and it hurts for a moment, and I'm a bit lost.

"Hey", I hear him calling me softly and I try to look at him, but there are a few tears in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink them away and realize I have zoned out a bit. I wiggle a bit with my hips, searching for a position that would be more comfortable. I find it and take a few breaths.

"It feels so..full", I tell him and my voice sounds so weird to me, somehow soft and weak.

He just smiles at me and moves a bit inside of me, his eyes never leaving me. I look at him, moving above me, and there is something so good and beautiful about it, I can't even begin to describe it. My mind ignores any remnants of pain and I become aware that _this is it, I have lost my virginity, I am actually doing it. Oh my God._

"It's ok. Just relax, sweetheart", he kisses me on my cheek. As if he just read my mind, and prevented my oncoming slight panic attack.

I focus again on him, on the way he moves, on his face, relaxed and tense in the same moment, on how his breaths become more and more heavy, and then I dare and focus on the way how _I_ feel, and I realize that I can feel him moving inside of me, and that such a feeling is actually very good and exciting, and I start losing myself in that feeling, and I hear myself moaning in the distance. The feeling of wanting more is coming back fast, and it's growing by the second and suddenly I feel like I was torpedoed out of my body and I grab Jack as if my life depends on it.

A few moments later, as I am catching my breath, I hear him letting out a shuddering yell, and I feel another surge of wetness between my legs.

He collapses on top of me, and I put my arms around him. We lay there and I wonder how crazy life is. Just a few hours ago, I hated him. Now I would move mountains for Jack Napier.

And then he sleepily mumbles something and I missed it. Maybe a love confession? He must be feeling it too. Right?

"Pardon me?", I ask him gently.

"I said I sure hope you take the pill.", he says and drops his head again.

 _Well, fuck._


	15. You will pay

I silently crawled out of the bed as soon as she fell asleep.

I knew that was a douchey thing to do – for a boyfriend. But I am _not_ her boyfriend.

Things have not changed only because we had sex.

 _It's only sex. Nothing more. Just sex. Very satisfying sex, I must admit. It was..something else._

I spend the rest of the day plagued by flashbacks of what had happened today – her naked form underneath me, the way she kissed me, without hesitation, the way she not only willingly gave herself to me, but actually _demanded_ for me to take her…a darker part of me remembers with creepy fondness how I manhandled her when I burst into her house, how scared she looked when I pushed her around and even the tears that sprang to her eyes as soon as I penetrated her.

 _There truly is something wrong with me._

And there will be something even more wrong with me if I keep on wasting my time thinking about her. I got laid, so what of it? If I overthink that, I might end up falling in love - how pathetic would that be? No, I got to keep this girl at a fair distance, maybe shag her here and there, but no committing, no bonding, no nothing.

….

He's not there when she woke up. That was the first bad sign.

However, she didn't want to spoil the fabulous afterglow she had going on, so she stayed in bed, stretching her body, remembering all the touches and kisses and more – the dull pain she felt down there reminded her of what happened.

 _Oh my God. I'm not a virgin anymore – and I'm not even 16 yet! Does that make me, I don't know, a slut? Am I too young for this – maybe I should have waited?_

 _Should have-would have. Too late now!_

She panicked a bit, but soon enough relaxed again – there was no point in crying over spilt milk. And also – she couldn't really make herself feel sorry for what happened. Because what happened was…magnificent. And she sure as hell wanted _more_. The only question is – where has the provider of that "more" gone?

Maybe he would text? Maybe he just hopped to the store? Maybe he has left a note?

The answer to all those questions was obviously a "no", and as time went on, Sonja became more and more aware of that fact. Evening came, then night, and then she fell asleep. Morning was here and not a sign from Jack.

Sonja readied herself for school with a heavy heart. She knew that she would have her answer as soon as she saw him. And she already knew what that answer would be, and misery began creeping into her heart.

Sure enough, there he was, sitting at his usual place in maths class, throwing her a small non-comital smile. She answered with a weak smile and suppressed her tears. The next time she saw him was at recess. They didn't really talk, they just did their fake relationship routine, and he even kissed her after he escorted her to the next class. That kiss was the last and most painful blow for her to take - she could actually feel how reclusive he was and that it all meant _nothing_.

She couldn't wait for school to be over for the day - she was the first one out of class and probably out of the building, too. She didn't even manage to make it to her house – she started crying on the street, clutching her books close to her chest.

The next day is even worse – she actually cried a bit in front of him during lunch. He started nervously tapping his foot, and then pushed his napkins towards her.

"What's wrong with you?", he asked, not hiding his annoyance, "You're making a _scene_."

"Fuck you, Jack", that's all that she managed to squeeze out before she abruptly left the table.

That day she cried again on her way back home, but as soon as she arrived home, her feelings started to change, and she felt more and more rage coming up in her.

 _I mean, how cruel can you be? To just fuck me and then throw me away! And then continue this charade?! Like, really-come on! And then I even cried in front of him, and he didn't feel even a little bit guilty, no, his highness is even cross with me because I'm making a scene?! That god-damn son of a bitch, I will make him pay-I will make him pay dearly!_

And with that, a plan started forming in her head.

She texted Rachel-is there a party this weekend? Sure there is, a huge one, too. Sure, we can go. Tomorrow already? Perfect!

Next day, she takes care not to look as if she is up to something, so she keeps her sad and sour face for the entire time she spends with Jack. She gives him the silent treatment, and he doesn't seem to mind that much. _Very well._

He actually has the nerve to inform her that he will "pay her a visit" sometime that weekend, and when he said that, he made this face, as if he is suggesting something intimate. Sonja's fury rose to new heights then, but she managed to keep a calm demeanour and just to throw him a blank look.

On the other hand, she expected something like that. She knew he wouldn't leave her unattended on a Friday or Saturday evening-not because of sex. He needed to check if she's really at home and not somewhere, who knows where, far from his controlling nature.

As soon as school was over, Sonja went to her house to get ready. She took a lot of care to look her best-it was crucial to shine and attract guys for her plan to work. The party was perfect for her plan. It's supposed to be this huge party, something about the city football league. That meant huge, strong football players. The sort that could hurt you badly, only if they wanted to. And Sonja would make one of them want to hurt _someone_ really bad.

It's a cheap, low plan, right? Sonja felt a bit ashamed because of it. She knew it was really mean to use people. But her hatred trumped her shame, and she was dead-determined to make some poor football player her puppet for the night. If Jack would let her suffer emotionally, she would let Jack suffer physically.

It all went pretty great. She came to the party (alone-Rachel called to cancel, she felt a bit sick. Sonja was glad to be alone, because she didn't want Rachel to witness her dubious behaviour), carefully scanned the boys there, and picked the perfect candidate – a huge mountain of a guy, obviously single (probably because of his shyness due to his enormous size and slightly weird-looking face), bit of a loner (she didn't want him to get distracted by possible friends) and aggressive-you couldn't miss that. Notwithstanding his shyness, everything about him screamed aggression: his size, the way he moved, his tattoos.

It wasn't easy, and it took all the conversation and flirting skills she had, but after a while, he started talking with her more openly, he swayed a bit as she seductively danced right next to him, he poured her a few drinks and didn't leave her side anymore. She, off course, already told him about the "freak with scars who pesters her at school and claims to be her boyfriend and she doesn't _even, like, know who he is_ ". And about how she hoped "that stalker wouldn't show up at this party, too", for which she received a reassuring "don't you worry, girlie, I know how to handle such scum".

Speaking of scum, it was getting late and Jack still didn't show up. That was the weakest part of the plan – would he check up on her and notice she's gone? Would he do the same as the last time and find the party where she is? But one glance at her mobile phone put her to rest (and in the same time, terrified her): WHERE ARE YOU, Jack's text message said.

She didn't answer, but just smiled. She knew he would find her (it was only a matter of time now), and when he does, she would need to be in a compromising enough situation, which would make Jack angry enough to be ready for a fight. So, she did her best to make her new football friend dance, and encourage him to put his hands on her while dancing. She didn't plan to kiss with this guy, she just wanted him to believe that such stuff (and more!) would happen, _and soon_.

Sonja scanned her surroundings constantly, knowing the first impression she would make on Jack would be most important. And finally, she caught sight of his blonde mane in the distance, and his neck, sunken in his broad shoulders, indicating exceptional fury.

She threw herself at mountain guy without hesitation. He looked pleased as she basically yanked his arms and wrapped them around her body, one of his hands resting on her butt. She fake-laughed and drew mountain guy closer, making sure he would get a good look of the horror on her face when she will inevitably hear:

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, Sonja?"

"Oh my God!", she quickly turned to Jack, and then back to mountain guy, putting on her most scared face, "That's _him_!"

"Hey!", mountain guy showed Sonja behind his back, "Leave the girl alone, you freak. She's not your girlfriend!"

"Listen, I don't have time for this, so just beat it, you jacka…", and he didn't have time to finish the insult, because mountain guy has already delivered the first punch, knocking Jack on the floor.

"The lady told you to leave her alone", mountain guy kicked Jack in the ribs, " _As if a girl like her would ever want to be with the likes of you!_ "

And this sentence pulled at Sonja's heart. _But I want to be with him…I want to be Jack's girlfriend-the truth is that he doesn't want to be with me!_ Also, as soon as her wish came true, namely Jack was getting his ass seriously kicked, she realized it is not as satisfying as she imagined it would be. As a matter of fact, she didn't enjoy this spectacle _at all_ , and she realized she made a mistake. Her plan worked _too well_. Jack natural aggressiveness clashed with mountain boy's wish of impressing Sonja with his strength, and things were getting out of hand. Jack's lip was already split, and he kept on receiving blows that would leave nasty bruises.

"She's not your girlfriend, get that in your stupid head!", she surely taught football mountain well.

"She actually. Is. My. God damned. Crazy. Deranged. Girlfriend!", and with each word, Jack dealt a well-placed blow, effectively pushing mountain boy away, "So get your. SMELLY PAWS. AWAY. FROM MY WOMAN!"

His tone was extremely angry and full of honest anger, and football mountain took a few groggy steps back, wiping bloody spit from his mouth, "What the fuck, man, she told me you stalked her or something."

"What the fuck, Sonja. You are my girlfriend, are you not?!", he turned to Sonja, anger glaring in his eyes.

"I don't know, Jack, am I?!", Sonja now burst into tears.

"You fucking are!", he yelled at her.

"Are you for real this time or are we fucking faking it yet again?! I don't care anymore, Jack! Ship me back to the moon for all I care! I can't do this! I can't fake it anymore, ok?", Sonja yelled through tears, not caring about the fact that they were drawing quite an attention.

Jack lowered his head a bit, his hand angrily going through his hair a few times, and then he looked around a bit, and then at her, and then at the floor again, and then at her again, and he noticed how her tears have smeared her makeup, and then he remembered how she was moping around the entire week, and when she does that, she is _no fun_ , and also, crying meant _no sex_ , and she keeps on causing him trouble no matter if they're faking it or not. So what the hell. Maybe things would be better if she was his girlfriend, this time for real.

"It's for real", he told her, his voice now low and calm, "Let's go home."

Sonja smiled through tears and happily hurried to Jack's side.

"I can't believe this bitch.", mountain guy mumbled.

"You know what, buddy", Jack turned to him as they were leaving, "Take it from me. You dodged a real bullet here."

 **A/N No more faking, yaaaay!**

 **Btw we're probably in the middle of the story :)**

 **Thank you for all the likes and follows and stuff! Let me know how you liked this!**


	16. Don't change the subject

The way he slammed the car door as he got into his car told Sonja to kindly shut up. Indeed, Jack was irritated, and on a good way to be fuming.

It was like red flames liked his soul every time he remembered the way she rubbed her very scantily-clad body on that grotesque mountain of a football dumbo. God damn, she smiled at that guy, she looked at him and did that thing that girls do when they somehow look at you under their eyelashes, and she let his huge hands slide all over her butt, and God knows how this would have ended if he wasn't there to stop it! Jack felt if the roaring jealousy he felt would never diminish.

To add insult to injury, that same idiot had the upper hand in size and managed to actually knock him over. Jack gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel even tighter when he remembered the beating he had to endure. If this hadn't been a party full of kids, but some back alley, Jack would make a very quick stop to that fight. However, he couldn't flash a knife at such a place, not if front of all those _kids_ (after all his experience in violence, he did tend to look at his peers as innocent children).

"Are you very angry with me?", she peeped meekly.

"Yes.", he snarled.

Off course he was angry! She disobeyed him _again, s_ he just disappeared to a random party, and this time, almost _cheated_ on him! OK, technically, they weren't really an item at that specific moment, so it would be more correct to say she fake-cheated on him, but the principle was the same. And then, she got him (almost) beaten up. He really had a lot of reasons to be angry.

"I didn't mean to things go the way they did", she started explaining, "I mean, I did actually plan the whole thing to go down just like it did, but when it actually came true, it was all so stupid and didn't make me happy at all.."

"Wait, what?", Jack hit the brake, not trusting himself to drive in that moment, "You _planned_ all this?"

"Oh. _Oh_. I…I kind of did..?", Sonja realized that silence truly is golden, and that she should have kept her mouth shut. Preferably forever.

"You planned for me to find you with some guy..?", Jack watched Sonja closely as she reluctantly nodded her head, "Did you plan also for my ass being kicked or was that just, uh, _a lucky coincidence_?"

Sonja nodded again, cursing her inability to simply lie, and feeling fear as his voice became more and more nasal. That could not be a good sign.

"..and you say you weren't even happy in the end?", Jack flashed her a truly terrifying smile, his scars giving him a more sinister appearance than ever.

"I r-really was not happy..n-not even a little..!", Sonja suddenly felt very small.

"You weren't happy. Not even a little. Is that so.", he just stared at her, and she had the good sense to avert her eyes and shut the hell up. After a minute, he started the car again, wondering how long would she endure before she says something that would drive him up the wall.

…

Of course, I could not keep silent. After a few minutes of fear, I started to feel more and more anger. What the hell-is this how this relationship is going to look like? I am _not_ going to be bullied, and I do not care if he is angry or frustrated or whatever, I will _not_ be treated this poorly!

"Listen, I know you're angry because you got a bit beat up", he snorted a bit as I said that, "But guess what, it's entirely your fault?"

He actually slammed his hand on the wheel a few times before he growled at me, "Would you perhaps, uhm, _enlighten_ me-what did I exactly do to deserve what happened tonight?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know very well what you did!", I snarled back.

"I do not, so humour me", his voice got a bit nasal again and I didn't like that.

"Well, Jack, FYI, if I remember correctly, last week you took my virginity and then just left and then acted as if nothing happened!", I started the sentence in an almost normal tone, and ended up yelling.

"Oh, little miss hurt-feelings! And the only way to soothe your vanity was to get my ass kicked?", he laughed nastily in my face.

"Yes, Jack! And you would do good to remember that!", I said with venom in my voice.

"Or what? You'll keep on searching for guys you can manipulate into attacking me?", he laughed.

"You're right, that's not entirely fair", I said more calmly, since we stopped in front of my house and I didn't want a scene there, "If there's a next time, I'll take care of things myself."

"You?!", now he roared with laughter, "You couldn't overpower a sick chihuahua!"

I waited politely for him to finish his maniacal laughter.

"I figured you will need to fall asleep sooner or later. A sleeping boyfriend is a weaker target than a sick chihuahua, don't you think?", I smiled broadly at his suddenly perplexed face, "But let us not find out, am I right?"

I turned my back and marched towards the entrance, and I fully intended to leave him there, but of course he had to breathe down my neck in the very next second.

"You wouldn't dare", he said, and pushed both of us into the house.

"I didn't invite you in", I pushed his hands away from my waist.

"As if I care about that. You owe me, you know?", he said darkly.

"I _owe_ you? Come again?", I spat out angrily.

"I missed work because of your escapades tonight. You owe me a thousand bucks, little missy", he put his arms wide on the kitchen doorframe.

"A thousand dollars, Jack? What do you do, actually?", I asked and felt more and more worried as he clearly avoided my eyes, "What kind of jobs pays that much in just one night? You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

"I'm not a dealer. Forget I said anything", he waved me off.

"Jack, tell me. This can't be legal. Are you doing something dangerous?", suddenly all anger left me and I felt concern for Jack.

"Don't you worry your pretty head. Talking about pretty, did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?", he took me in his arms and nuzzled my neck.

"You didn't. But don't change the subject!", he laughed in my hair at my vanity.

"You look _very_ pretty. Too pretty to go out alone. Not in this outfit", and his hand vanished underneath my dress, grabbing my butt.

"Would you stop that.", I tried to slap his hand away, "Stop it. Stop. Stop! Ahhhahha! That tickles! Jack! Stop it, mhmmm, wait, I want to…just give me a minute..would you..you're impossible."

That's how I lost the fight both for finding out what Jack does at night and the fight for my panties.

…

God, I love her body, I love how she arches her back and how responsive she is. I feel wave after wave of pure pride when I hear her moaning and feel her trying to get as close to me as possible.

We didn't make it to her bedroom, we just landed on the couch. The sorry excuse for a dress (really, something that small shouldn't be called a dress. Maybe a belt.) landed on the floor soon, accompanied by her bra, and the panties were actually the first to go.

As soon as I had her on the couch naked, her legs shamelessly spread for me (oh, I liked that. That scene I will probably remember for as long as I live), and my curiosity got the best of me as I dived my tongue _there_. I never did that before, but now it felt as if I could spend ages down there, it was so sweet and warm and then the scent of her, driving me completely crazy. If it wasn't for my rock-hard dick, weeping for release, I would really spend an eternity licking at her most intimate place and listening to the aria she was moaning. Alas, I smacked one more juicy kiss down there and then instantly plunged into her.

How would one describe such a feeling? Words are not enough. Tight, wet, warm, welcoming – it simply can't be described. Especially when you hear and see your woman wanting you that badly and enjoying you so thoroughly.

I put her legs on my shoulders, and this allows me to go even deeper, and I see her eyes widen in surprise and ecstasy. I don't know where the thought, or the feeling, came from, but suddenly I am glad and happy and proud that this girl is mine. And I need her to know that.

"You're mine", I pant.

"What?", she is busy nibbling at my neck.

"Mine. Mine, mine", I repeated in the rhythm of my pounding, "Tell me. Mine. Only mine."

"Yours, Jack", she looks at me and kisses the tip of my nose, and I think this is what happiness may feel like.

Only after we are done, her legs trembling a bit after all the action, does she snuggle her naked body against mine, and then she says silently:

"And you are mine, too", she plays with my hair gently, "So, don't you think a girlfriend should know what her boyfriend is doing to earn one thousand dollars in one single night?"

 _Aw, crap._


	17. The best of times

Three months later, I still don't know how Jack earned his money. I just know that every so often he turns up at my front door, bruised, with bloody hands, and a dark demeanour. On such nights, he usually just wordlessly takes me to bed, and takes me a bit more roughly than I like, but in the same time, he clings on to me and kisses me in such a desperate way, and with such hunger, that I clearly see that this is more than just sex-it is like he is filling a hole inside of him, a hole that is getting bigger and emptier after each night he spent doing whatever mysterious thing he was doing, and that I am not supposed to know about. I know better than to ask questions, he would just ignore them or joke them away.

One night, however, he came home with bloodied hands, and he seemed so numb, so I dragged him to the sink and carefully washed his hands. I was very nervous, because all that blood meant he was injured, and there must be cuts on his hands, and I had no real idea about bandaging and such stuff. However, as the water washed the blood away, I could see no cuts. I stared at his hands and felt him staring at _me_. Finally, it dawned on me.

"This is not your blood, Jack", I said, my eyes not leaving his hands because I did not have the courage to look up at him. For the first time, I actually hoped he would ignore me again.

"No. It is not- _t_.", he said in that awful nasal voice that came up in such weird situations.

"Jack", I just said in a way of answering, and my voice broke under tears. Whatever it was that he was doing, it was _wrong and terrible_. And I had no idea how to help him and make it stop.

On the other hand, such ugly moments are rare. Most of our time spent together is usually pretty funny and great. Of course, I am often a victim of his pranks, and I'm sure he loves nothing better than to see me embarrassed (I once told him that, and he said I was wrong: he loves seeing me naked even more! Well then!). A really mean prank he pulls on me on Halloween. I was so excited about that holiday – we don't have Halloween in Croatia and I only saw that in movies, and it seemed like such a fun thing to experience, so I was very happy when Rachel asked me (and Jack) to this huge Halloween party.

"What should I be?", I yell at him as he brushes his teeth (need I say that he spends the majority of his time at my place?).

"How about quiet", I hear him mumbling through toothpaste foam.

"Hardy har har. I was thinking Britney Spears from that "Hit me baby one more time" video?", I enter the bathroom, admiring his half naked body.

He just gives me a blank look.

"Yeah, don't. ", he rolls his eyes at my disappointment, but then helpfully suggests, "We could go as a couple."

"Of course we'll go as a couple?!", I say in outrage. I mean, everybody knows we're dating, so what's up with that suggestion?!

"Geez, you're sometimes so slow, Sonja. Thank God you have a great rack to make up for that", he jokes and very nimbly avoids my attempt to slap him on the butt, "I meant, we could go in matching outfits."

"Oh!", I immediately brighten at such a great idea, "Like Romeo and Giulietta!"

"..or something less sleazy.", he rolls his eyes.

"Ok, you pick", I say and I didn't know that in that moment I made a huge mistake.

"Well, I was thinking..you having that lovely long brown hair…how about I dress up as a cowboy and you as a sexy squaw?", and he flashes me a combination of a seductive look and an innocent smile. How could I say no to that?

"Sure, how very American", I agree and wonder what got him giggling that much.

I found out what was _so funny_ pretty soon after we walked into that party a few weeks later.

"Don't you think that is offensive?", a girl I never seen before in my life asks me.

"I'm sorry, what?", but before I can catch her answer, Jack (who didn't even try to look like a cowboy, he only has jeans and a plaid shirt, no boots, no cowboy hat, no nothing!) already drags me away, laughing.

"Is my dress to short?", I ask Jack under voice. He bought me the costume and then pressed me into making it shorter and shorter, and now it's really a bit too revealing. That's probably why the girl spoke to me. Although, why would she care how I dress?

"Wow", some hipster looking guy approaches me and shamelessly eyes me from head to toe, "Wow, really. I can't believe this. Like, come on."

"You're really taking liberties here", I tell him because I really don't appreciate the way he looks at me. _And where the hell is Jack - he usually scares such guys away!_

"Really. _You_ are telling _me_ I'm taking liberties?!", the guy raises his voice at me.

"What the fuck is your problem?", I snarl at the guy.

"My problem is that you're appropriating an entire culture in order to project your slutiness, that's what my problem is.", the guy says, and I must admit that I understand almost nothing other than the fact that he just called me a slut.

"You know what, how about I call my boyfriend, and you repeat that to his face", I say and smile a bit when he just turns and goes away. And then I turn to find that boyfriend of mine who apparently got lost, and I notice that wherever I go, people stare at me and comment something.

 _Something is off – something is wrong about me and my costume!_ , I realize.

And then, Rachel shows up and as soon as she sees me, she hurries to my side.

"Oh my God, what are you wearing, have you gone mad?", she hisses at me.

"Rachel, everybody is staring at me, and some people even approached me and something is wrong with my costume and I have no idea what?! Help!", I ask her on the verge of tears.

"Didn't you know that this is offensive? Everyone is talking about it these days..", and then she explains cultural appropriation to me, and I really have a hard time understanding it. We simply don't have such issues back home where I'm from.

"But in Croatia, when a foreigner wears the red-white checkers, we're glad and proud, we take that as a compliment! I wouldn't wear something that represents the Indian culture if I didn't admire it?!", I try to explain myself.

"But you're not in Croatia, Sonja.", Rachel sympathizes but let's me know I'm dead wrong here.

And then I hear laugher behind me, and I know that laugh _very well_ , and then one very self-satisfied Jack puts his hand smugly around my waist.

"Having trouble, squaw?", he kisses me my forehead.

"You knew about this!", I accuse him, and he puts on a mock expression of outrage and shock and then laughs his ass off.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! When you threated hipster with yours truly! Ah ha ha! Priceless!", he's really milking this.

"You're really not fair! You knew that I was looking forward to this and you made me wear this stupid costume that would get me in trouble. And all I wanted was to be Britney Spears!", I feel really disappointed. I can understand a prank, but this has gone a bit too far.

"Ok, doll face, don't give me that sour look.", he calms down and hugs me, disregarding my protests, "Go see what I got in the trunk of my car."

And in it is a beautiful Baby one more time costume.

…

Things are changing, and I feel that change clearly. On one hand, the things I do at night are becoming more and more violent. It's not about doing a job anymore. I actually sometimes do it just for fun. I don't know what drives me to do it. It's like a buzzing in my head, and things quickly become _relative_ , and one thing leads to another and I find myself piling up bodies.

On the other hand, when I'm with her, I become that much more mellow and soft. Cuddly and snuggly. I love to watch her, kiss her, hold her, listen to her silly stories, I love fucking her senseless. But what I love most is the response I can see in her eyes. I know she loves me, too. Every time she sees me, she smiles, and she's happy I'm there. She needs me, she craves me, she feels _safe_ with me.

I sometimes leave her little presents to find all over the house, nothing expensive. Just silly things to make her laugh. I know it should be flowers and stuff..but I don't have that in me. So, for instance, I leave her a little Mr. Spock figure. She told me before how she loved the original Star Trek series as a child, and she liked Mr. Spock best. Stuff like that.

She slipped a Zippo with a Joker character in my pocket. I have it with me at all times.

I actively refuse to think about the fact that I actually _love_ her.

I mean, I don't. I don't love her. Right? I'm not sure. I'm not sure what love really is.

At least I wasn't sure about that love thing until what happened the other night.

She wanted to go to the movies. I had stuff to do prior, so we agreed to meet in front of the cinema. So, I'm waiting, and I don't even know what movie he wants to see-I just know I'll make good use of the last row and the darkness. But she's late.

That's weird, because she's actually very punctual.

And she doesn't text me back. That's weird too, because the last time she didn't text me back was the football mountain party-night. After that, she always texts back in a matter of minutes.

So I call her. She doesn't pick up.

I call again. And again, she doesn't pick up, but this time I think I can faintly her ringtone. Just for a second, and then some kind of crash, as if someone stepped on a cell phone.

I run.

In the second back alley, I catch a glimpse of two guys bent over something.

As I silently come nearer, I hear a sob. That something is Sonja, bundled into a ball on the dirty ground, trying to protect herself. Her shirt is ripped open and I think I see a cut on her arm.

That's more than enough for me.

I takes me a few seconds to knock the first guy unconscious-he literally didn't see me coming. The other guy is harder to overpower, now that he's aware of me. However, after a short struggle, I manage to place my knife deep inside his belly, and I am genuinely happy when I feel his warm blood slush out. I push him away, knowing he'll probably die if he didn't get an ambulance _right now_. The other guy is slowly getting up and he's trying to get away.

I feel so much rage.

I won't let him get away. The things I do to him are nasty, and painful. At least I'm quick. It' not that late, people could see me.

When I'm done, I turn to Sonja, and she's still in a ball, and I call for her, and my voice is somehow weird, and then she looks at me. And I see fear in her eyes. She's afraid. _Of me._

I hoped this moment wouldn't come - the moment she would _really see me_. But here we are. I guess this is it. I guess this is fucking it. Now she knows. Now it's over. Now she has seen the other me, the one who speaks funny and who does things that are not funny at all. _The guy who I am having so much fun with. The other me._

I start walking back, leaving her behind, in every possible sense.

I feel the empty hole inside of me roaring, I feel as if everything inside of me is breaking, as if I am imploding and for a moment the hurt is almost physical.

And then I feel the warmth of her hand in mine, and I stop. It's not my imagination, she's right there by my side, tears and scared eyes and everything. But she's there, and she's with me. _With all that is me._

 **A/N**

 **Hi guys, first of all, as always, thank you for reading.**

 **Regarding the cultural appropriation mentioned in this chapter, I hope nobody is offended. As mentioned in the chapter, in Croatia people mostly have never heard about that. We have a TV show (called "Your face sounds familiar") where people imitate celebrities and (what some of you would call) blackface is a very common thing and is not considered offensive, just the opposite. I actually talked to some friends and asked them if they heard about . (they didn't) and what they thought about it. And everybody said they don't get it and that "Americans are crazy" (this is how we explain most of things that Americans do). So this ignorance would probably drive Sonja into doing something so offensive.**


	18. Sonja, seriously

I put her in my car and drive us home. _I don't know when I started to call her aunt's place 'home'. I just know that a while ago, when I stepped into my actual home, things started to seem a bit foreign to me. I'm not sure if the place was always dusty, or if I just started noticing…I sure as hell never clean the house, I take out the trash sometimes, though..but dusting isn't something I do..I didn't really notice the dust. But as of lately, whenever I step into my house, it seems emptier and dustier than ever. I don't mind – I spend less and less time there anyway._

I drive slowly. We really can't afford to be pulled over by cops. First of all, I have blood on my hands - quite literally-, and also on my clothes. Also, even if the cops wouldn't notice the blood, they would notice the state Sonja is in. I look at her again and again. Her hair ruffled, her make up smeared, tears running down her face, her eyes shut tightly, her clothes ripped here and there.

We make it home without any of us speaking one word. I take her by the hand as I help her out of the car, and I'm glad to notice that she doesn't flinch back at my touch. On the other hand, she seems a bit detached from the world.

My first idea is to tuck her in bed and let her sleep the shock off, but on second glance, I figure she'd prefer to have a shower first. I heard that girls have this need to rub the stink off them, once they have been touched by someone they didn't want touching them. Although, she wasn't raped, so I don't know why I'm treating her as she was? I feel a bit confused, and it doesn't help that in the same time, I wonder if her shock is the result of those guys attacking her or of her seeing me doing what I did.

"Do you want to shower?", I ask her and hate how raspy and ungently my voice can sound. She doesn't mine, though, she just nods her head, but doesn't make a step further.

"Come on then", I sigh and take her hand again. We enter the bathroom, and I turn the shower on, knowing it takes a minute or two for the hot water to come. She just stands there, looking at her feet. I turn to go out and leave her some privacy, but she grabs my hand.

"What?", I ask a bit gruffly, annoyed by her being so weird. Obviously, my caring and understanding side has its very short limits- _where would I end up if I made such scenes every time I get attacked? Geez._

And then she just pulls me in the shower with her. We're both in our clothes and I can't help but to roll my eyes at her drama. On the other hand, I like how obviously she needs me, and I'm fascinated that she seeks _my_ proximity in order to feel _safe_. I never had anyone feel safe around me.

I sigh again as I take on the task of pulling off our soaked clothes, and then, washing her hair and body, rinsing all the bubbles off, massaging her scalp. I can feel her relaxing under my fingers and I gently kiss her shoulder. That, however, leads to another series of crying, and she hugs me closely, sniffing into my wet hair. And then I have to rub her back gently and wash her hair _yet again_ (she actually just pushed a bottle in my hands and said something that sounded like "conditioner". What the hell is _that_?).

As we get out of the shoulder, she glances at the towels, and then at me, and then I had it. "You're not a baby", I say as I grab a towel and throw it at her. The drama has to stop eventually, so why not sooner rather than later? Also, I have enough of looking at and _touching_ her naked body and knowing that I won't get any. Come on!

She throws me a hurt and accusing look, but as soon as she meets my blank stare, she rolls her eyes and matter-of-factly starts drying herself. _I knew it! She was already over it all, and now she was just draining this opportunity to the last drop!_

…

For two whole days, I don't really talk. I feel odd. Scenes replay in my head, and I shiver when I remember how the strangers grabbed me and got me into a dark alley in a matter of seconds. One well-placed slap to my face was more or less all that it took them to get me scared, and then, as they started to pull at my clothes, I got stiff with fear, and I tried to scream, but my voice somehow broke…God, I felt so _helpless_.

And then, out of nowhere, Jack comes, and he takes out those two guys. When you think about it, it sounds like he is my saviour, my knight on a white horse, and I'm the damsel in distress, but it was nothing like it, there was not a trace of anything romantic in it. Just the opposite, I was literally shivering in fear as I crouched down in a dirty puddle and watched my boyfriend turn into an animal. The things he did..without hesitation, without remorse..I'm not even sure if he killed those guys, or 'just' injured them. And how he kept calm afterwards!

I look at Jack often in the last two days, and he just stares at me, irritated, and just says "What." and I don't know how to even start explaining on how many levels his reactions are _wrong_.

I guess I look one time too many, because just as we sit at _his_ table in school, and he is busy devouring whatever crap he loaded onto his tray, he catches me staring _again_ , and he obviously has had it.

"Would you stop fucking staring at me.", he demands as he shoots daggers at me.

"I can't, I really can't", my eyes are filled with tears instantly, "I'm trying to understand you, and I just fucking _can't_."

"There's nothing to understand, drop it already", he hisses at me, and he looks majorly pissed, "You're really getting on my nerves."

"How can you just.. _do_ things like that and then just go on as if nothing happened?", I press on, stupidly.

"Why can't I even have one fucking meal in peace. All the time it's you, watching me like I'm a fucking lab rat", he picks his tray up just to slam it on the table. The noise makes a few people turn around and stare at us.

"You can't ignore such things, Jack, we need to talk about this", I insist.

"We're not having this conversation here. Or anywhere.", he gets up and leaves.

I don't see him for the rest of school that day, and he doesn't show up at my place in the evening, either. I'm pathetic enough to text him.

 _Please come over so we can talk._

He doesn't reply, so I up the ante.

 _I'm just trying to understand..don't push me away._

He still doesn't reply, and I decide that I'm going to be the queen of pathetic low-blows.

 _I think there's someone in my backyard..is it you?_

Of course, there's no one there. I just want him to think so and to come check it out and then stay with me.

 _I'm done rescuing you. Call the cops._

That's what I get as a reply! That goddamned _bastard_! And I reply in the manner I always do when I don't know what else to tell Jack Napier:

 _Fuck you, Jack._

The reply is instant this time.

 _That's exactly why I'm done rescuing you. I don't get a Thank-you-Jack; I get a Fuck-you-Jack. Well, fuck you too, lady._

I guess he has a point. And then my phone beeps again.

 _And I'm done with your games. Fuck you for scheming to get my ass kicked, and fuck you for trying to make me think you're in danger. Sonja, seriously: FUCK YOU!_

The first things that goes through my head is, _Wow, that backfired._ And then I start fuming and I take my phone to start and type some poisonous reply. But I can't think of anything clever enough.

And then I cool down a bit and actually started thinking. And I had to admit that he has a point. I really do try to manipulate him. I actually took extreme lengths to do so, such as the football party-scheme. And I push my agenda even when I see it disturbs him. I saw him doing something he isn't proud of, and something that he keeps a secret (since now I understand where all his cuts and injuries come from-he obviously takes part in some criminal activities, I just don't know exactly what and why), and I just couldn't give him time to get comfortable with the idea of sharing his story with me, no, I had to corner him.

So I come to the realization that maybe I'm just not a really good girlfriend, and I feel ashamed. And then I realize that maybe Jack is too proud to show how the violence he did affects him, and that maybe he actually needs someone to feel comfortable with. And that someone could and should be..well, his girlfriend. And now I feel guilty. And not only that. Now that I realized that I'm not such a great girlfriend as I thought, and now that I know that _he thinks the same,_ I think of the possibility that he could _dump me_. That idea is somewhat shocking to me, and completely unacceptable. I don't want to lose Jack, I, I…like him? Or maybe even more?

 _I'm really sorry, Jack. I wasn't thinking. If you need me, you know where to find me._

My phone is silent for five long minutes, and I stare at it the whole time, trying to make it beep by sheer willpower.

 _Do you have any food in the house? And by food, I mean meat._

Oh, Jesus in heaven, thank you!

 _I have STEAK :)_

And I thank Jesus and all the saints for the fact that I bought steak just yesterday. I don't even wait for his reply as I fire up the stove and rummage through the fridge. Just as I put mashed potatoes on the table, along with medium done steaks and green salad, I feel his warm, big hands sneaking around my waist. I turn around like a tornado and waste no time placing a hundred of little kisses all over his face. He laughs as he pushes me away, still holding me strongly, and then he kisses me for real.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I really am", I say as soon as he releases my lips, "And of course I'm thankful for what you did the other night..you saved me from those guys. Thank you, thank you so much!"

"Wow, Sonja, I should tell you to go fuck yourself more often", he smirks at me.

"Please don't", I smile, "But I guess I had it coming."

"You did, at least party", he lets me go, and sits at the table, his eyes scanning the steak.

I open my mouth to ask him what he meant exactly, but he just raises his hand.

" _Ah_! Let's not let the food get cold. It looks delicious. And I'm starving."

He doesn't look at me, but I guess he can read my mind.

"You can ask me your questions _later_. And I will answer..some of them", he grins at me with his mouth full.

 _Ew, table manners much?,_ I think as I start making a list of questions in my mind…a long list.

 **A/N**

 **Hi guys, sorry for being a bit late with the update, I had to work over the entire weekend, and the rest of the week wasn't any better.**

 **It's a developing story, so we'll cover a lot of misplaced beliefs and feelings as we go on. I hope you liked this chapter- please let me know. Your reviews help a lot! Also, thank you for favouriting and following, I'm so glad about it :) :)**

 **Next chapter should be up during this week-no promises, but I'll do my best.**


	19. There's plenty to know

Once he's done with dinner, fed and happily tired, he smirks as he notices Sonja's eager face expression. She just can't wait to fire all the questions she has in store for him.

"So, are you..", she starts questioning.

"-full? Yes, it was delicious, thank you.", he interjects with a huge grin, knowing that she was about to ask him something else.

"No, I meant to ask you if you..", she tries again.

"-wanted more?! No, thank you, I'm done.", he continues his silly game.

"You know very well that..!", Sonja's getting angry.

"..you're not the best cook, but you did your darndest?", smooth as a tiger, he quickly rises up from his chair and starts retreating as he sees Sonja coming up to him fast with murder in her eyes.

"Jack, you're such a..", she shouts angrily as she tries to catch him.

"-picture-perfect boyfriend and a dream-come-true?", in a second, he turns the table, catches her and takes her into a strong embrace, "Aw, dollface. I like you, too."

"Hmph hmmmhm hmpppph!", she shouts angrily into the thick material of his sweater, her voice muffled inside his bear-like hug.

"Excuse me, come again? You want me to take you to bed? You _naughty_ girl!", he snickers as he pulls her up and actually manages to get her over his shoulder.

"Let me down, you _maniac_!", Sonja shouts, but Jack can hear humour in her voice.

"Ah-ta- _tata_ …I'll let you down..on the bed, that is", he says and does just so seconds later. Sonja now lays on her back, breathing a bit harder, looking at the force of nature that is her very unique boyfriend. She then remembers that just a couple hours ago, she was scared he'd leave her, and yet, here he is, looking down at her with lust in his eyes and that wonderful smirk of his that he saves for special occasions only.

"You said you'd answer my questions…", she tries, but her voice comes out playful, revealing her lust.

"I'll answer if you know what to ask", he says as he takes of his sweater and then slowly crawls over her.

"What questions should I ask..?", she now whispers, her hand already busy pulling up his undershirt.

"How about..", his voice is dangerously low and raspy, " _Jack, will you fuck me into the mattress?_ That one I could answer."

Sonja blushes at this, but takes the hint, so she looks him straight into the eyes, her hands wandering over his bare torso, "Jack…will you..", her voice breaks a bit, and she bites her lower lip, and then she continues, blushing heavier than ever, "Will you.. _fuck me_..into the mattress?"

"Oh sweet cheeks, I will", her words have a visible effect on him, as his lust is now roaring, and his jeans are off in a second, "I will. Oh God, I fucking will."

Sonja almost giggles at the sight of a completely naked Jack doing his best to undress her in the shortest possible time. Her panties fall victim to this manhandling, and she sighs as she realizes she hast lost yet another set of perfectly good underwear.

"You owe me a lot of underwear", she manages to say as he's about to kiss her breast.

"You don't need underwear", he answers as he lightly licks her nipple, "You should be naked. All the time."

"What..?", she giggles but then gasps as he lightly bites her nipple.

"Always naked and ready and available for me", he explains with a grin.

"Is that so", she rolls her eyes and then instantly forgets what they were talking about, since his fingers finally found that one place between her legs, that one spot that drove her crazy.

"That. Is. So.", he smirks as he sees her eyes losing focus, and if she had to say anything, it was replaced by her loud and shameless moans. He knows she is more than ready now, so he positions himself and slowly glides into her. She closes her eyes, but her hands grab him on his back, drawing him closer.

He keeps a slow pace first, taking his time and enjoying looking at her, feeling her. _This is more than just sex,_ he realizes when he catches himself looking at her fondly. He gives in to the soft feelings that rise up inside of him, not knowing how to really handle them, so he leans down to kiss her, and a warm fuzzy feeling spreads inside of him when she so readily returns his kiss.

"Sonja, look at me", he asks quietly, and she instantly opens her eyes. She's confused in the first second as to why he asked her to do so, but she seems to recognize something in his look and her eyes soften, and they continue their love-making looking at each other for as long as they're too close to the end.

Afterwards, they lie in bed, their limbs entangled, happy and exhausted in the same time.

"So that was fucking-me-into-the mattress?", she laughs after a while and he joins her laughter.

"Yeah..dunno, I felt like going easy after all. Didn't want to break ya or something", he shrugs his shoulders.

"Well, thank you, kind sir", she kisses his neck as she turns in his arms, "I guess it's better we took it slowly, so you have some energy left.."

"What, for another round?", his eyebrows go up.

"No! I mean, maybe later..", she giggles, "What I meant, for my questions. You have some energy left for my questions."

"Aw, come on…", he tries to hide under the sheets.

"Jack..", she pleads.

"There's nothing to know", he rolls his eyes.

"There's plenty to know.", she insists, "And no reason for you to hide things from me."

"You don't know what you're asking me", he says darkly, "There's nothing to be gained by you knowing..stuff."

"How about you having someone you can trust? How about treating a bit more fairly and not letting me stay in the dark? How about, if nothing else, so in the case of police questioning me, _and sooner or later that will happen_ , I know what to say and when to keep my mouth shut?"

He keeps silent for a while, and she tries one more time, searching for his eyes, "Don't you trust me by now? Didn't I keep quiet all this time, and even the little that I know is something that every sane person should report with the police?"

His eyes dart towards her as soon as the word 'police' leave her lips, but still he doesn't answer.

"Why do you think I didn't tell a thing to no one? Do you think I'm still scared that you'll deport me?", she actually laughs bitterly at the mention of deportation, "No, Jack, I kept shtum because…because I didn't want anything bad happen to you. I care about you, ok?", she speaks from her heart.

"Because once you know the truth, you'll…", he starts answering, but then loses his words. His brows furrow, and then he finishes, "..you'll leave. All of this will be over. Ok?"

"Why don't you try me?", she says.

He rolls his eyes, but by the way his lips tremble here and there, she can see that inside, he is in some kind of agony.

"How about I start", she says gently, "You injured those two men the other night.."

He nods.

"They might even be dead..?", she looks at him for an answer.

"One's very badly injured, the other one probably dead", he sighs as he finally answers.

"From the way you did it, I gather that this was not the first time you were in such kind of fight..?", she slowly tries her way further, "This was not the first time you harmed someone in such way?"

"No.", his eyes are focused on some port of the sheets.

"Have you killed someone before?", he plainly asks.

He looks at her, and then at his hands, knowing that this is it, and then, he figures that if he had the balls to kill, then he should have the balls to confess.

"Yes."

She shivers a bit, but she stays right where she was, in his arm.

"Knowingly? I mean, with the intent to kill – it wasn't some kind of accident?"

"Yeah, with all the intent in the world", he says, "And more than once."

"…why?", she has to know.

"I'll tell you if I ever figure it out myself", he smiles bitterly.

"Has is something to do with your scars?", she's desperate to find a reason to all of this.

"No. My scars are a different story…for a different night.", he forgets himself for a moment and gently caresses her arm. To his delight, she actually leans a bit into him, seeking his warmth.

"Will you do it again?"

"Probably."

"Do you like to do it?", her questions keep on coming.

"I do."

She raises her head a bit at that and looks at him, "You won't kill _me_..right?"

"I have no intention, no", he smiles at her, and even he thinks he's being creepy.

"How do you choose?", she continues with the questioning.

"What?"

"Who to kill."

"Well, either it's a..job. Or someone really grinds my gears.", he shrugs with his shoulders.

"Aha!", she rises up in triumph, "So _that's_ how you make a thousand dollars in one night!"

"No, that was just some solid beating or whatever, kills bring in more", he laughs because he can't believe she is so stubborn to even remember those thousand dollars that she cost him that one night.

She smiles a bit, but then becomes somber yet again.

"Is somebody making you do it..are you being blackmailed?", she asks with sadness, because she already knows the answer.

"I know you want to find an excuse for me, dollface, and that's cute. But there is none. I'm doing this from my own free will.", he says and studies her expression. Now she knows at least a part of what he is, she knows that night she was attacked was no misunderstanding or accident., "So now that you know, Sonja..what will you do?"

"What do you mean?", she asks him, staring at him blankly.

"I mean", he runs his hand through his hair, frustrated, "Will you…I dunno..leave? Dump me? Or was having a serial killer as your boyfriend always your heart's wish?"

"I won't leave, but I would prefer if you stopped doing that kind of stuff..is there anything else you'l like to do..besides being a.. _criminal_?"

"Well, I so much wanted to work at McDonald's, flippin' burgers 'n shit, but they wouldn't take because of the scars", he replies sarcastically.

"Ha, ha", Sonja rolls her eyes heavily and then sighs, "Let's make a deal. Don't get caught, don't get wounded, don't get _dead_ , and try to put that nasty stuff to a bare minimum. If you can do that, I'm more or less in. A relationship with you, I mean. I'm not going to be a part of your..gang? Do you have a gang?"

"I don't", he actually laughs, "I'm more of a solo player. Ok, your conditions are reasonable and oh-so-romantic, so we have a deal."

He leans in to kiss her, amazed by what a weirdly perfect girl he found for himself, but she stops him, looking like she remembered something important.

"Wait! What if I dump you in the future..you won't kill me _then_ , right?", she asks, and he is surprised when he realizes she's asking him seriously.

"I will not kill you under any circumstances. I promise by the old gods and the new.", he rolls his eyes.

"That's the spirit", she jokes meekly.

"Ok, now that we have cleared all _that nasty stuff_ …I can't help to notice that you're somehow naked under the covers..? And I do remember something being said about round two." and his hand shamelessly travels under the mentioned cover.

She watches his hands exploring his body, and she can't imagine (although she has actually seen it!) that those same hands are capable of murder. But, his hands make wonders for her body, and as the sensual sensations take her away, she happily forgets all the ugly truths she now knows.

 **A/N**

 **Guys, let's not forget, Sonja is very young, therefore a bit stupid and self-centered...she only thinks of how she likes Jack and how he likes her-everything else seems trivial and somewhat unreal to her. That's why her reaction is so mellow-she didn't really understand the implications of what Jack's told her.**

 **Also, this is pre-Joker, I have imagined Jack as a young man who is damaged but not broken and crazy. Once he is broken and crazy, Joker comes in.**

 **Let me know how you like the story so far, what you would want more of and what less, if something irritated you etc. (except my weird sounding English) ;)**

 **Thank you for reading and for following and favouriting!**


	20. Roadkill

The following factors made Jack decide it was high time for a road trip:

there was no school for two weeks,

Sonja was turning out to be a really nice girlfriend to have, and he felt like he wanted to somehow _award_ her for that,

he had a serious pile of cash from all his _jobs_ ,

he got a bit bored by his various _jobs_ and decided it was time for a vacation,

when he asked her if she wanted to go and _where_ she wanted to go (and he did that hoping to God she would leave out tourist traps such as national parks or even worse-Disneyland), she said _the town where Rocky climbs the stairs, Seattle and Detroit_.

"Ok, so you obviously like Rocky. Doing the stairs thing is a bit cheesy, but I can live with that as long as it's the only, uhm, _touristy_ thing we do. And Philadelphia is close enough", he watched her over the table, noticing how excited she was because of the idea, "But we can't do Seattle, it's too far away to go there by car."

"Isn't it like..a few hundred kilometres away from Gotham?", Sonja furrowed her brows.

"Geez, Sonja. It's basically on the other side of the country. And could you drop your European weird stuff and start using miles instead of kilometres?", he rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand miles, and FYI, the rest of the world uses kilometres, so..", she childishly poke her tongue out at him.

"Whatever. So, forget about Seattle. But we can visit Detroit. I was meaning to go there anyway…but why would you want to go there? It's uhm, _really bad_ there."

"Because James O'Barr grew up there.", she answered promptly.

"James _who?",_ Jack asked suspiciously.

"The guy who created _The Crow..?_ My favourite comic..?", Sonja looked at Jack hopefully, "I was telling you about him the other day..weren't you listening?"

Jack's blank stare was the only answer she got.

"You must be _joking_!", Sonja sighed, "I talked for half an hour about him and the comic and the movie..Brandon Lee..? He got shot while filming…does _that_ ring some bells? _No_? I'm talking to a _wall_."

…

Philadelphia was great. Sonja was in full tourist-mode, and Jack found it to be less annoying than he originally thought it would be. She not only made him film her running up the stairs and then jumping around, Rocky-style, but actually managed to persuade him to take a dozen of silly selfies. Jack sure did a lot of things in his young life, but selfies were not one of them. Sonja had to give a holy oath that she would never upload these pictures or show them to anyone. She rolled her eyes heavily, but agreed.

They ate at cheap diners and slept at motels that Sonja would never be brave enough to enter by herself. Jack, however, felt perfectly at ease in such places, and since he was paying for the entire trip anyway, Sonja refrained from complaining. That is, until she had a close encounter with a giant cockroach in a pretty stinking bathroom. A few minutes of pretty high shrills and one monologue about " _the hellholes you take me to_ " were enough for Jack to decide that he'll pick better place from then on.

Detroit was a big let-down. Yes, Sonja knew that the town is going through tough times, but in her naïve young mind, she painted a romantic picture of it, like a city from a _forgotten dream_..reality was different. It was harsh. The people were poor, crime was the only industry still going on, the streets were empty and filthy. Sonja didn't feel like even leaving the car. Jack had to take her by hand whenever he wanted to see something.

What also didn't help was the fact that Jack had also a job to do there, namely he met up with a guy and took a package from him. Sonja didn't even want to ask what it was-probably drugs. She stayed in the car and watched with bitterness at Jack and the guy, and then she noticed a very fragile form of a young girl behind the guy. She was so young- _too young_ -and dressed in _nothing_ save some whorish skirt and top. It was pretty freezing outside. The girl's face was completely blank, as if void of any personality and feelings, and her body was trembling in the cold. The guy was occasionally touching her, as if to demonstrate that she was _his_ -a quick squeeze to the shoulder, a shameless slap on the butt. She didn't protest, she acted as if those touches did not happen. At one moment, the guy seemed to have asked Jack something, nodding towards Sonja in the car, and Jack just waved his hand dismissively. Sonja felt just as insignificant as that girl outside. _Is that what we are to them_ , she thought, _something to squeeze and something to wave off. Is this what my relationship actually is, only with me wearing huge pink glasses and lying to myself that I'm being treated better? At least this girl outside seems to be aware of what's going on._

She didn't know where this dissatisfaction came from, but once she started feeling it, the feeling settled in her and wouldn't leave. Jack noticed the change in her mood, but wouldn't comment. _She wanted to come to fucking Detroit, and now she doesn't like it – what did she expect? And what does she want now – the whole city to miraculously change because of her?_

They agreed to shorten their stay, to their mutual relief. Driving was boring and tiring, the lust between them dropped to zero, there was nothing to see or to do, so going home was probably for the best. _Once we're in Gotham, she'll bounce back to her old self_ , Jack thought as he glanced at her from time to time while driving.

And she probably would have bounced back, had it not been for the cat. They stopped at a gas station, and it was pretty much empty since it wasn't working. Jack just stopped to walk for a bit after sitting too long at the wheel. They both got out of the car, and he walked away, while she stayed near the car, waiting for him. After a few minutes, a clean-looking grey cat came out of nowhere and Sonja lost no time and started petting it. The cat purred like crazy and Sonja smiled a bit, she missed that sound so much, and that made her think of her own cat back home. She was just about to pick some salami out of a sandwich she bought earlier and didn't finish, when a gunshot scared her half to death. She fell on the floor, and for an agonizing second, she wondered if she got shot and if she's about to die. However, she felt no pain, and her eyes fell to the pile of meat and fur that a minute ago used to be a cute grey cat.

"Oh my God!", she yelled as she crawled away, too shocked to stand up, and then, realizing the shooter is probably still near, and could shoot _her_ , too, she hysterically started to call Jack's name, hoping he would come and save her, "Jack! Jack! _Jack_!"

"What!", came his reply from just a few meters away, filled with suppressed laughter.

"Somebody…look at the cat! Somebody's shooting! Jack!", Sonja still didn't understand what happened.

"Yeah, I know", he snickered, pointing at his gun, now casually left at the hood of his car.

"It was..you?", Sonja tried to grasp what was going on, and in the same time, she tried to stand up, but the shock made her legs feel like jelly.

"Yup", he laughed again and then pulled her up, "You sure pissed your pants, didn't you?"

"What the fuck. Is wrong. WITH YOU?", Sonja wrestled her arm out of Jack's hand, her shock turning into blind rage.

"Whoa, calm down.", he took a step back, frowning at her.

"Why would you do something so sick?", Sonja didn't calm down, on the contrary, her fury only grew.

"I just shot a stray cat, what's the big deal?", he said in a challenging voice.

"No, you totally _unnecessarily_ shot a cat, and while I was petting it, what the fuck! You could have killed me!"

"You calling me a lousy shot?", he narrowed his eyes at her, and then in a second, he turned to grab his gun and fired several shots at a sign hanging nearby, saying " _Sorry, we're closed_ ". He managed to fire through the holes of the letter o and d.

"Jesus Christ!", Sonja ducked again as she covered her ears, "Stop shooting! You're scaring me!"

"Just look at the sign and call me a bad shot again!", he pointed at the sign, his voice filled with menace.

"Really, this is what you're concerned about! About proving your gun skills, you _idiot_! And the fact that you killed a random cat doesn't matter, what, are cats moving target for you to practice?!", she yelled as he jumped into the car and slammed the door behind her. If he's about to shot again, the noise would be less, at least she hoped so.

Jack followed her into the car and sat at the driver's side, his face grim. Sonja's rage was gradually leaving her, and was being replaced by tears.

"Oh just quit it", Jack huffed, irritated.

"You know, it's perfectly normal to cry when someone does something so horrible. And completely crazy. Why would you shoot that cat. That's completely deranged", she whined now.

"You're such a fucking hypocrite, Sonja, I didn't even know until now", he said after a while and started the car, "I don't remember you calling me crazy and deranged in the alley that night when you needed my help. And we're not talking about cats here, we're talking about _people_."

"Don't you turn this on me now!", she screeched, "I didn't cause any of it!"

"Keep your fucking voice down, you're really getting on my nerves!", he yelled back.

"You know what, fuck…"

"Yeah, _fuck you, Jack,_ of course, what else!", he finished her sentence, mocking her.

"Oh my God, I HATE YOU, I hate you so much, Jack, so yeah, go fuck yourself!", she felt beyond herself with rage, "I can't wait to go home and never see you again!"

"How about I kick you out of this car RIGHT NOW and you won't have to wait at all?", he threatened and when she didn't have to say anything back, he just added, "Yeah, I thought so, the _crazy idiot_ is still good enough to drive you home, right? And then you don't ever have to see me again. What, will you switch schools too or will you pretend that I don't exist when you sit next to me in maths class?"

"I meant, when I go home - to Croatia. _This_ isn't _my home. Thank God._ ", she rolled her eyes and stared out of her window.

They kept silent for the next five minutes, which seemed like an eternity right then, but Sonja immediately felt a change of his mood. Ever since she mentioned Croatia, he didn't seem angry anymore-he seemed confused and.. _concerned_?

"What do you mean, Croatia?", he asked in a gruff voice.

"Come again?", she didn't understand what part was unclear to him.

"You implied that you're, uh, returning to Croatia.", he clarified.

"God, Jack, good morning", she rolled her eyes, "I'm here for a year and that's it."

She glanced at him and it seemed like he paled a bit.

"You knew that, right?", she asked thinking it can't be possible that he didn't know that. When he didn't answer, but kept that weird look on his face, she continued, "Jack, I'm basically like an exchange student, I didn't move here permanently."

"You never said..", he started and then immediately stopped, feeling _stupid_.

"You never asked..", she said, feeling helpless, "I thought you knew _."_

"Well, I didn't.", he cut her off.

They kept their journey in silence and Sonja had a very unclear feeling of guilt. Jack's face turned into stone, and as the minutes kept dragging on, she wished more and more for him to say something.

"Jack..", she started.

"Why would you let all of this happen", he waved his hand between them, indicating their relationship, "If you knew it wouldn't last."

"I thought you knew! And how could I have known that we would..I don't know..get along like we do..?", she wasn't brave enough to define their relationship more clearly.

"Congratulations, you played me well.", he said with finality.

"Jack, come on!", her tears came back immediately, "Don't be like this..!"

But no amount of pleading, crying, reasoning, blackmailing and everything else Sonja tried, helped. As soon as he stopped in front of her house and she got out, he started driving away. She stood in the middle of the street, completely shaken. As he stopped some 30 meters away, she ran towards the car, hoping he changed his mind. But all that happened was her backpack flying out of the window, and then the car sped away.

 **Hey guys, I know this chapter isn't a romantic one, but we have to keep true to the title of this story, at least sometimes. Let me know how you liked it, I really want to know!**


	21. No mercy

I know I'm young, but so far, my life has been such that – compared to kids my age – I have gone through an exceptional variety of hurt and pain. Now, I'm not some sissy feeling sorry for myself. Life is though and I have made it even tougher for myself. There is something inside of me that draws me in. If there is a way to get in trouble, and to experience something both terrible and thrilling, I'm right there, first in line. It's gonna hurt? Fine. I'm gonna hate it? Very well. Throw it at me.

But _this_. This kind of pain. That's a motherfucker. It hurts somewhere so deep in me that I didn't even know there _was_ something so deep in me. And that pain doesn't show any intentions of stopping. You can't replace it by hate. You can't lessen it by giving into the sadness. It's like an open, raw wound, bleeding and gaping open and never healing.

And all that because of a god-damned _girl_?!

How the hell did I fall so hard for her? How did it happen, how didn't I even notice it? Have I gone _stupid_? I must have, 'cause I didn't even realize she's here for a limited period of time, and also, I didn't even notice that she's one lying bitch. Ok, she didn't straight out lie to my face, but she omitted some crucial facts, and that counts just the same. I mean, she _knew_ she would leave. She was _aware_ the entire time. And she let me just fall for her like a stone to the bottom of a lake.

When school starts, I seriously consider dropping out or changing schools – I don't think I can handle seeing her on daily basis. But that just a thought that lasts for a few seconds, and then I remember she's on _my_ turf, and I sure as hell am not retreating even one god-damned step.

So I go back to school, and when I see her for the first time after a few days in maths class, it feels like I'm being kicked in the balls all over again. She's so damn _pretty_ , even with her eyes all puffed and red from crying. I instantly feel a pang in my heart, as if I am sorry for her, but I push myself to look away and breath through the discomfort I'm experiencing. I feel her eyes linger at my face, and soon enough, she sits next to me, and I want to shiver as her soft perfume hits my nose. The class starts, and after a few minutes, I feel her nudging my arm and trying to give me a note. I react before I can actually think it through: I stand up and ask Mr. Roberts if either I or the girl could change seats because she keeps on bothering me and I can't pay attention to class. Mr. Roberts looks at me in surprise, partly because of my request, partly because I never spoke to him, and then he just nods and asks Sonja to take the only other empty seat in class, the one in the front row. Sonja is red in the face with embarrassment as she stands up and everybody stares and snickers at her, and I discover that this made me feel a bit better.

 _I like feeling better._

At recess, she has the guts to sit at my table when I enter into the canteen. She looks at me with determination on her face as I sit at the table. She starts talking, but I don't listen. I just take her orange juice and look her right in the eyes as I spill it over her dress. She jumps up and yells at me and _leaves_. And again, I feel a bit better.

 _I do like feeling better._

 _I wonder what else I could do in order to feel better._

 _Ha. Ha. Ha! Hahahah._

…

Jack is being such an asshole. I texted him, I called him, I wrote him a letter, I tried to talk to him. First, he ignored me, and then he humiliated me in front of the entire school - twice!

And all because he wasn't thinking. Like, seriously-I was talking to him about my home country all the time. He knows I'm not American. I thought it was fairly obvious that I'm not here to stay. And anyway, what if I did stay - did he intend to marry me or something? I mean, I surely like him, but he is my first boyfriend and I am his first girlfriend, and chances are, it won't last forever, right?

On the other hand, me going back home is not something I like to think about too much. I like the independence I have here, I like earning my own money, and I like having Jack as my boyfriend.

That is, if he still is my boyfriend. I guess not. He hasn't said the words, but…he made himself pretty clear otherwise. I'm angry that he doesn't give me a chance just to talk to him and explain. In the same time, I miss him.

I really miss him. There is something reassuring when he's around. I feel safe when I know he's in the next room. I like looking at him when he positively devours whatever I cooked for him. I'm happy when he gives me that cute smirk. I like talking to him. I like when he holds me. I like..uff. There is so much I like about him. And now he's gone.

I roam through the house, not knowing what to do with myself. I already cried on the phone with Rachel for a few days in a row-she surely is getting fed up with my sob stories. I have a few pages left for translating, but I can't seem to find my focus. I don't feel like doing homework. I just feel like…I don't know, lying down and feeling sorry for myself. I think about texting him, but after what he has pulled off today at school, I simply can't. I have to have a minimum of pride. And anyway, what could I write that I haven't already? I tried begging, flattering, threatening, whatever-nothing works!

I stand in the front of the mirror in the bathroom, examining my embarrassingly puffy eyes and red nose, when I hear the front door opening. I gasp as I realize that could only be Jack-no one else has the key to the front door. I run to the hallway, and sure enough, Jack stands in the entrance and looks at me.

I'm not sure how to react, my first instinct is to be happy and throw myself into his arms, but then I realize he could be here just to pick up some of the things he left in the house. So I wait as he looks at me, probably reading me like an open book. Then he quickly approaches me, but still, I'm not sure if he's going towards _me_ or if he's just going to go past me on his way to my aunt's room where all his stuff is. So I awkwardly stand next to the wall, giving him space to walk past me, and I lower my eyes because I don't want him to see the disappointment in my eyes if he's really here just because of his stuff.

I let out a breath as I see the tips of his shoes stopping in front of me. Then I feel his hands on my arms. I still don't dare to look up at him-after embarrassing me so harshly today in school, I can't take another blow.

"Hey", he whispers into my hair as her leans over me, his nose diving into my hair. I let out another breath that is dangerously close to a sob.

"Shhh", he gently removes my hair from the side of my face. I still don't look up to him, but - damn me and my incredible weakness for this guy! – I turn my head just a tiny bit, exposing my neck and obviously inviting him.

His lips immediately but gently connect with the sensitive skin on my neck and I know I'm a goner. I positively melt in his arms. I know we should talk things through first, but…aw, we can talk _later_. I feel pure bliss in both my heart and my entire body: Jack's back! He still wants me! _We're still together!_ I'm going to give him a scolding about his behaviour later on, now, I want to enjoy _him_ thoroughly.

I hear him hum contentedly as we kiss, and I can feel his excitement as he pushes me towards the bed. I give no resistance whatsoever, just on the opposite, I can't wait for us to get rid of our clothes. In no time, he's leaning over me and gives me that sexy smirk as he positions himself between my legs. I can't stop watching him adoringly, and I run my fingers through his lovely dirty blonde curls.

I gasp as he enters me, the feeling always bordering between pleasure and pain.

"I missed you so much", I tell him softly as he starts moving inside of me, "Don't ever leave me like that again."

He laughs a bit at that, and I'm not sure what he laughs about, but I stop wondering immediately as he now more aggressively starts pounding into me. I try to make him turn on his back so I can straddle him, but he doesn't let me. He kind of pins me down and bites my neck lightly, and I swear to God, he reminds me of some kind of a predatory animal sometimes. I let him keep the position over me he prefers and just enjoy all the sensations he's causing me to have.

He's done rather quickly after that, and I protest a bit as I didn't manage to finish.

"Hush, baby", he slaps my butt as I roll over, "I'm in a hurry, I can't _take care_ of you right now."

"Will you come back later?", I sneak up his back and sigh disappointedly as he gently shakes me off.

"I got this job.", he answers while putting on his clothes "And afterwards I'm invited to this party. Let's meet there"

"What party?", I ask, hoping I can come, too-

"I'll text you the address, we'll meet there. And here's some money, I want you to take a taxi there. Dress nicely. And don't come before 10 o'clock, we don't want to be the first ones there.", he instructs me and then leaves.

I smirk after him, amused by his audacity. He just shows up in my house, then takes me to bed without a word, fucks me and then leaves! And I just let it happen! My willpower is non-existent when it comes to Jack Napier.

Rather than thinking about what really just had happened, I busy myself with planning my look for the evening. I want to look my absolute best, so I go through my entire wardrobe before I pick a very short red dress and dramatic black heels. I sing to myself the entire time-Jack's back, we're going to a party, and then we're probably have fantastic sex, and tomorrow he'll be here again, and we'll talk and stuff and everything is just _so fine_. I take a long shower, then spend an eternity putting my make up on, while I decide to pull my hair into a high pony tail, exposing my shoulders.

Night comes quicker than I thought, and I feel a bit nervous when I exit the cab in front of a tall apartment building. I have no problem locating the party, since it's extremely loud and takes up an entire floor. Jack told me the party would start late, but judging from the mass of already drunk people here, it's been going on for a while.

I search for Jack but I can't find him anywhere. I pull out my phone and start typing a message, asking where he is. Ten minutes pass and I get no reply.

I really don't feel comfortable. First of all, this is _not_ a party for teenagers like myself. It's full of older people. Everybody seems a bit too loose, and too high. And I have this constant feeling as if somebody is watching me. Well, I _am_ by myself and I'm dressed provokingly, so I guess I'm getting some unwanted attention. I almost get angry at Jack for being so late, but then I grow anxious-he told me he had a _job_ before the party, what if he got hurt, or worse?

The annoying feeling of being watched keeps on pestering me, and I start looking around, searching for those eyes that would not leave me alone.

I find those eyes soon enough, looking at me from a dark corner in the far side of the room. Two pairs of eyes, to be correct.

One pair of eyes belongs to Jack, and they sparkle at me with malice.

The other pair belongs to a very pretty woman with red hair who sits in his lap.

Jack points at me and tells the woman something and they both laugh, and then they share a heated kiss.

 _I am such a fool._

 **Sorry for the typos-I wrote this chapter in extreme hurry. Give me your thoughts!**


	22. Rage and Sorrow

_Now, this works like a charm_ , a very satisfied Jack thinks to himself as he repeatedly kisses the random redhead sitting in his lap. He can't help but glancing over at Sonja every few seconds, and every time he sees the hurt on her face, he feels a wave of malicious joy.

However, this does not last too long -not that he was expecting it to last long. He expects Sonja to turn around in less than a minute, probably in tears.

What he does not expect is the change he notices on her face. Slowly but surely, the hurt on her face turns into a small smile, and the slight hunch of her body, just moments ago seeming as if she felt his betrayal like blows to her body, is replaced by her standing tall, her hand sassily resting on one voluptuous hip. She slowly and elegantly walks over to him (and the unsuspecting redhead), making a show of her long legs and short dress, and she surely knows how to turn a head or two.

Jack frowns a bit as she stops just a few feet away.

"Really, Jack?", she smiles and rolls her eyes slightly, "You couldn't come up with something more original than..that?", she means the situation, but also motions towards the redhead.

"Come again?", Jack tries to hide his irritation, so he shamelessly grabs the red head even closer to him.

"You're basically doing what I did before…at the football party, remember?", Sonja smiles at him mildly, as if talking to a child, "Except I didn't kiss with that guy…unlike you..you man-whore."

"Hah!", he erupts into a short and bitter laugh, still holding but also completely ignoring the girl on his lap.

"Yeah, why don't you tell that joke to your lovely companion. I'm not interested anymore", Sonja says with disdain and then turns to go home, her nose high up in the air.

He glares after her, and then shoves the redhead off of him as she starts asking _questions_. He didn't really know what he envisioned as the best outcome of this little scenario he staged was, but it surely wasn't _this_. What also didn't help was that she was right-he actually copied what she has already done to him before. Except she didn't get hit. He is also a little disappointed by lack of her reaction: she is supposed to be more..hurt. From what he has just seen, she didn't really seem to care that much. She usually is much more _passionate_ when she feels attacked or somehow embarrassed – like when she kicked him in the balls, and then she threw a knife at him. Why the hell such memories bring a smile to his face, he'll probably never know. He huffs, irritated, and goes to have a cigarette on a nearby balcony.

He feels annoyed by the entire situation. He wanted to see her cry, he wanted to see her hurt, he wanted her humiliated. And he didn't succeed. He takes a long drag from his cigarette as his attention is drawn to the commotion to the street underneath. _What the hell..? Is that Sonja..and who are those guys around her..and why is she holding a baseball bat..? Wait…my car!_

…

For a short moment, I was sure I could handle the situation like a grown up, like a proper lady. I tried to tell myself that I can walk away with a snotty smile and a feeling of moral superiority. I could just turn and forget about the red head, about the betrayal, about Jack Napier.

But that moment lasts only so long, and as soon as I enter the elevator and press the button to go down, I feel that this is _so not over_. I am still way too angry. I managed to put on a brave face when I was in front of Jack, but now, I could simultaneously cry and scream and generally go crazy. And I want revenge.

So, as soon as I step out of the building, I start thinking what I could do. I stand there for a minute, thinking about going back up and scratching his eyes out, or seducing some random guy, but then I notice a group of young black guys, standing on a corner. One of them holds a baseball bat. Before I really have a chance to think it over, I already boldly go towards them.

"Hi, guys", I flash them a huge smile and then all stop talking, checking me out from head to toe.

"Hey there girl", the closest one to me says with easy confidence, "Whasup?"

I don't even want to try to speak in slang, I barely master ordinary English as it is. And I'm not here to talk, anyway.

"I need a favour", I smile apologetically, and then my eyes focus on the one holding the baseball bat. I throw him something that I hope comes across as a seductive look, "From you, to be exact."

"Me?", the boy's brows fly up and he actually points a finger at himself, as his friends laugh and tease him about being a "white chick magnet".

"I would like to borrow your baseball bat", I laugh a bit, trying to seem relaxed.

"What for?", one of the guys ask me as all the others suddenly fell silent at my strange request.

"I want to smash my cheating boyfriend's car", I giggle, and I do it honestly, "You guys can come watch."

They all erupt in laughter and decide that it would be _hilarious_ to see something like that. The bat is in my hands without any further question.

"Imma tape that shit", one of the guys tells me, "You'll be a YouTube sensation, girl!"

Luckily, I saw where Jack parked car his car from the taxi when I as on my way to the party. My new friends are pretty loud and in a good mood, and they want to know what " _that white fool did to make a pretty girl so angry_ " and when I tell him that I just caught him " _kissing some cheap bitch_ " they all agree that he " _deserves_ _to get what I'm about to give_ ". Also, I get offers from pretty much all of them about " _showing me what a_ _real men is like, true and loyal_ " and how none of them would " _ever leave your side, girl, damn, you fine_ ".

However, as I stop in front of Jack's old car, they stop talking for a moment and exchange weird glances. I don't notice it first as a take a few test swings in the air – I never held a baseball bat in my life before. We don't have that sport in Croatia, we mostly play soccer.

"What's his name, girl?", one of the guys asks me after he exchanged a few whispered words with one of his friend.

"Jack", I answer shortly, going around the car, trying to decide where to start.

"Jack Napier?", he asks, but his friend already hisses, putting his hands on his head.

"You Jack Napier's girl? I knew that was his car, I told you!", he turns before I have the chance to confirm I am, or better said, I _was_ Jack's girlfriend.

"Girl, you crazy, don't do it!", another one yells at me, "He'll rip you apart! Don't you know your boyfriend is _crazy_?!"

"Oh, just watch me", I roll my eyes and swing the bat, effectively crushing the car's left taillight.

"OK, you did it, now leave it be!", the same guy pleads, sounding honestly worried.

However, I don't stop. I crash the other taillight, then both lights in the front. I manage to crash the driver's window, and it's way harder than I thought it would be. I try the windshield but it seems impossible, at least from where I'm standing. I figure I'll have to stand on the hood of the car if I want to have a really good swing, so I somehow manage to get up there, and as I stand, I realize that my heels are leave really nice imprints on the hood, which makes me giggle as I do a little impromptu dance, completely destroying the front of the car.

The guys also start to laugh and holler, and one of them actually tapes the entire action.

And then it all comes to an abrupt halt as Jack's tall figure appears around the corner, a murderous scowl on his face. The guys – remember the _loyal guys that would never leave my side because I'm so fine_ , apparently? – run in all directions, as long as it is away from Jack, but he doesn't pay them any attention. His eyes are focused only on me, me and my red short dress and high heels on his beloved old car, making a goddamned scene.

I know I'm in trouble, but I use the adrenaline to get myself ready for a fight.

"Get down", he orders me, his voice livid.

I don't answer, but just raise the baseball bat and one of my eyebrows, inviting him to attack.

He looks as if his head will explode, and I can't help it, it's really funny, so I laugh.

"Get down, you bitch!", he roars.

"Come and get me", I taunt him. If he comes closer, I will swing at him, and I think he knows it. He puts his hands on his face, trying to calm down, and he takes a few deep breaths. I don't move for an inch, but I feel more and more fear creeping into me. The street won't be empty for that long-eventually someone will come by and call the cops, and then I'm in real trouble. I glance a bit around me, and a split of a second is enough for him to charge at me, pulling at my legs. I shriek as my bottom unceremoniously hits the hood of the car and then I feel him pulling me from the car. I lose my balance he drags me into an alley and he stops my screams by basically stuffing his forearm into my mouth. Of course, I bite, but I let go as soon as I see pain clearly on his face.

"There, I got you", he growls at me after a minute or two that he used for calming himself down, still holding me in a strong grip. I look at him in confusion, I don't understand what he means by what he just said, "Well, you told me to come and get you, didn't you? I only _obeyed_."

"Then obey this: let me go!", I roll my eyes and then snort a laugh.

"Can you promise me to try and act as if you were normal?", he tilts his chin down and keeps a close eye contact with me, as if he's talking to a deranged person.

"Yes..I pretty much vented enough", I say sarcastically.

He lets me free and I immediately feel cold and lonely.

"Listen…normally, I'd make anyone who dared to destroy anything that's mine _pay_. I mean, you ruined my car…", his eyes dart wistfully towards the street, "But having in mind..the _circumstances_ , I think it's best if we forget the entire thing."

"What do you mean?", I ask – I have no clue whatsoever in which direction this is going, but I'm worried when I see he's not angry anymore-he just seems defeated and tired and _so very done with me_.

"I mean, you hurt me, I hurt you, and then we repeat that..I don't want that. Let's just..go on.", he avoids my eyes as he says this.

"..go on?", I am completely confused. Does he mean go on as in 'let's stay girlfriend and boyfriend and forget about all this' or go on as in 'let's break up and go on with our lives'? _And what option would I prefer, anyway?_

"How about you change maths for some other class, and I change the other class, so we don't have to..you know, we can avoid all those awkward moments", he already plans out our future. I mean, our separated futures.

I nod, fighting back tears. Finally I understand which option he prefers.

"You can sit with Rachel and those guys for lunch..", he keeps on figuring out what is best to do.

I nod again, and I lose my fight with tears as they start rolling down my cheeks. _Why does this hurt so much?_

"…and I'll skip a class or two in the morning so I can pick up my stuff from your house while you're at school.", he finishes his plans and finally looks at me, taking in my tears, "Aw come on, what are these for, you were about to kill me just a few minutes ago?"

"It's just..nothing", I say, averting my eyes, feeling really dumb, "I just realized you're right. Obviously, it wasn't meant to be."

I shrug my shoulders and bite the inside of my lips, hindering myself of blurting out all the hate and love and anger and lust that I feel for him. He fucked me and then cheated on me in the same day, _on purpose,_ and now he's letting me go. It's pretty obvious he doesn't really care about me. Maybe it's time for me to stop being so pathetic.

He actually hails down a cab for me, and pay the driver, which only hurts me even more, seeing how he's willing to pay cash just to get rid of me asap. As the cab drives away, me in it, I turn to catch one last glimpse of him. His tall figure is turned toward the car, his back turned away from me. I see him shaking his head and then the taxi turns into another street. And just like that, I realize Jack Napier is not my boyfriend anymore.

 **A/N Hey there guys, I'm sure this chapter is full of typos. To be honest, I'm uploading without proofreading, because I don't have the time to proofread. Ok, I could find the time, but that would mean that you guys would have to wait one more day for the new chapter, so…you know. Let me know if it's any good.**


	23. Lost in translation

" _Meni se cine u redu_ ", I hear and immediately I type the translation (" _They seem ok to me_ ") and send it via Viber to my current client, an older Italian restaurant owner.

I got this job from my agency, and it seemed fishy from the start, but I really need some extra cash. I can't live on pasta all the time and spend my entire free time in my aunt's house. I'll get depressed…and fat. My ass is already big enough as it is. Anyway, this is the best paid job I ever got, so I'm really giving it my best, but it's hard. On one hand, I pretend to keep a conversation with my mock date (apparently, I'm destined for fake boyfriends and mock dates) -some young Italian guy who somehow seems a bit like he's in the mafia or something, on the other hand, I'm supposed to be eavesdropping on the people who sit at the table next to us.

The young wise guy does a good job pretending to be on a date with me, he holds my hand, he shoots me yearning looks, but he also takes care not to distract me too much: he knows I'm here on a job. I smile at him here and there and play the part of the silent and shy girlie on her first date, and my actual nervousness because of the job helps me deliver the image of a girl who is slightly nervous in front of her new boyfriend.

" _Ne znam bas, meni je tu nest sumnjivo. Trazi ih nek prvo pokazu lovu_ ", (" _I'm not that's sure, I think something's wrong here. Ask them to show you the money first_ ") the other Croatian guy say quietly and I furiously try to keep up and send this new information to my client.

" _Ionako im podvaljujemo sranje…da nam i manje daju, tko ga jebe, opet zaradjujemo_ ", the other guy replies and I realize that I'm probably witnessing something illegal. The guy just said " _We're cheating them anyway…if they pay us less, who gives a fuck, we're still earning_ ".

" _Samo da nam ne prosviraju glavu_ ", the first guy suspiciously glances around, catching my eyes for a second, and I freeze up like an idiot. Luckily, he looks away and I immediately type the translation of what he said: " _As long as they don't shoot us in the head_ ".

 _What the fuck have I put myself into-again? Am I really unable to stay away from trouble?,_ I think to myself as my two countrymen thankfully keep silent and eat their dish. The restaurant owner-or at least I thought that is what he is-comes up to our table, and loudly asks if we are happy with our dish, and wise guy and I both nod our heads.

"Lovely, lovely, I love to see young people happy", the old Italian guy smiles at me, and then he taps my shoulder lightly and whispers, "Put the phone away, you're done for tonight. Thank you, you did good."

Now I finally can honestly smile at my fake date-I got my money in advance, I don't have to eavesdrop anymore and text random mafia guys, I can just relax and enjoy my free dinner.

At least I thought so. Until, in slow motion, the doors to the restaurant open up, and in walks none other than Jack Napier, in all his tall and menacing glory. I forget how to breathe and how to move for a moment – I just know this is the worst possible timing.

It takes exactly two seconds for his eyes to land on me. First, I see confusion and surprise in them, and instantly after that anger and darkness. He scans the scene: a small table in the corner, with a red rose on it, I'm dressed really nice, and right next to me sits a young man who's holding my hand. Without missing a beat, he marches up to the table.

"What to fuck, Sonja? How did you even find this place..how did you know I'd be here? This is really low-even for you! You and your fucking games", he snarls at me.

"Jackie!", my date stands up and tries to hug him, pretending as he didn't notice the scene Jack is making, "Long time no see."

"Fuck off, Luca", Jack pushes my fake date away with on powerful shove. The Croatian guys are now definitely staring at the show unfolding in front of them.

"Jack, let's go outside, let's talk", I try to say as calmly as possible, and I try to keep my Eastern European accent to a minimum. I don't want my countrymen to get suspicious.

"Yeah, why don't you tell me a story about what a desperate whore you are..", Jack actually smiles at me, but it's a smile full of hate. His words are like stabs into my heart, and I feel like I'm going to start crying.

"What the fuck is your problem?", Luca shoves Jack back, knowing if this is a some kin of a new sheme, he just has to play along.

"You have no business with this girl", Jack glares daggers at Luca.

"Fuck you, what is she to you?! She's your sister or what?", Luca spreads his arms, provoking Jack, and I know it won't take much more than that, "She's not your sister, she's not your woman, she's free to do whatever the hell she wants..and she wants me!"

I see Jack's fist only flashing past Luca's face, it is so fast that I don't even realize how hard Jack placed his blow. In the same moment, a generous spritz of blood from Luca's nose splatters all over my face, and I jump up screaming: "ISUSE BOŽE, FUUUUJJJJ!" (" _Jesus Christ, ewwwww!_ ")

I instantly realize what I did - I screamed _in Croatian_ basically in front of those Croatian guys-and even more stupidly, _I look at them in horror as I realize my mistake._ They both immediately stand up and one of them yells at me:

" _Koji kurac?!_ " (" _What the fuck?")_

" _N-nista_ …" (" _N-nothing._."), I stutter my lame reply and I see that he doesn't believe me.

" _Sta ti tu radis?_ ", (" _What are you doing here?_ ") the guy pulls out his gun.

I don't know what to say, I just helplessly look at Jack (who eyes the gun and completely ignores _me_ ), and then at Luca. Luca, however, together with the supposed restaurant owner, is already disappearing behind a door, so I'm left alone with the two angry Croatians, a very crazed Jack, and a few other guests who are doing their best to be invisible as they crawl towards the exit.

" _Samo sam bila na veceri_ " (" _I was just having dinner_ "), I can stop the tears anymore. My face is full of blood and I'm really scared.

I guess my answer doesn't impress anyone, because the next thing I know, the guy points the gun right at my face.

" _Kurac si vecerala, prisluskivala si i stalno nest petljala po mobitelu_ ", (" _The fuck you had dinner. You were eavesdropping and constantly fiddling with your phone_ ") the other guys says and I know I'm busted. My entire body trembles, and for the first time in my life, I fear for my life.

Thankfully, Jack has had enough of a language he doesn't understand, and I know how irritated he gets by my tears, so he finally decides to make a move, and in an instant, I hear shots. I cover my ears as I sink to the floor and I cry hysterically as the first thing I see as I open my eyes is the dead stare of the man who just seconds ago has threatened me with a gun. His buddy lies next to him, just as dead.

A few moments pass in really awkward silence, and then Luca and the other – I guess – mobsters barge in through the door, all of them carrying weapons. They kind of relax and roll their eyes as they see what happened.

"OK, who the fuck is this broad to you?", Luca yells at Jack, while still trying to make his nose stop bleeding.

"Call her a broad one more time…and I'll make sure no surgeon will put that nose back in place", Jack snarls at Luca, "And for the record..that's my woman and if you fucking touch her once more, I will cut your fucking hand off..is that understood?"

"Jesus, take it easy!", Luca's eyes are wide in both fear and amazement, "I had no idea she's yours. And it wasn't a date! There was nothing going on-I swear!"

I still cry and I'm still on the floor so I don't have the strength to even nod in agreement, thus confirming that Luca is telling the truth. Luckily, the old Italian guy comes in.

"Jackie boy, we really didn't know. We found her at an agency, we needed her to translate…those guys are Croatians and we just wanted an extra pair of ears, you know how we do things. And it would seem weird for a young girl to sit alone in the evening in a restaurant, so we decided Luca would play her date.", the old guy explains, and Jack nods after a few moments, realizing the story is believable.

"Did I ruin business for you guys?", Jack asks, nodding towards the dead guys.

"Nah. You actually made us a favour. Guys were trying to scam us", the old guy smiles a bit and then hands Jack a bundle of money, "Here, Jackie, for your troubles. And no take your lovely lady back home. She's really a fine girl. Why don't you guys come over for dinner more often, hey?"

Jack grunts as a response and then, still in a caveman-mode, takes my arm and drags me to my feet and out of the restaurant. I follow him and my head is spinning from all that has happened. Not only did I witness a double homicide-again, committed by Jack-also again, I could swear I heard him referring to me as "his woman" and acting very possessively. This makes me feel unreasonably happy and proud, but moments after I remember he also called me a whore. Also, I realize that maybe he just said that I was his because he didn't want to explain our past to his criminal fellows. But why would he be rescuing me, then?

He takes me to his car, and to my endless embarrassment, I recognize the marks of my stilettos on the hood of his car. For some reason, this makes me start crying again, and he rolls his eyes and spreads his arms and huffs at me, "Now WHAT?!"

"I'm so sorry about the car, Jack", I say through the sobs that rattle my body, "It was so stupid of me."

"Forget about it", Jack waves me off and then literally shoves me into the car.

A few minutes of quiet ride pass by, and I manage to calm a bit. I so much want to talk to him, but everything I want to say or ask him seems so stupid.

"Why didn't you fix the hood?", I shoot out the question before thinking about it, "I mean..do you want me to pay for the repair? I could, I have earned some money.."

"I have _money_ ", he spits out the last word with a good measure of disdain.

"Then why didn't…", I start repeating the question, but he cuts me off before I can finish it.

"Because it reminds me of you", he says, his eyes strictly on the road.

I want to feel happy about his answer, but in the same moment, I doubt he meant what I hope he meant. He probably wants to be reminded of me as a warning not to get together again with the crazy girl who stomped all over his car.

"It reminds me of you in that slutty red dress, and those goddamn heels, and how beautiful you looked on the hood of my car, so angry, so full of life, swinging that bat, wanting to murder me", he surprises me by continuing to talk, "I hated you so much, and also wanted you so much, in that moment. And ever since then I wonder if I made the wrong choice. I spent nights down your road in my fucking car, watching your house, fighting with myself if I should burst in or not. Every time I see you in school, I want to grab you and kiss you and I fucking can't stop wanting you and missing you, ok? So I fucking keep my hood wrecked, all right?!"

I don't know what to say, so I keep silent. I feel waves of bliss and happiness going through my body, and I am not able to express it. Fortunately, we're in front of my house in less than a minute, and as soon as we stop, I jump out, quickly go around the car, and open the driver's door. He shoots me a tired, blank stare, but I'm having none of that. I just pull at his left arm as hard as I can and yank him out of the car.

"I'm gonna go wash my face from all this blood", I tell him as I look him straight in the eyes, "And then you're gonna fuck me so hard that I won't be able to walk for the next three days. And then we're together, ok? No more drama, bullshit, fights. I'm yours and you're mine."

He nods and I grin.

 **A/N Hey guys, sorry for the wait!**

 **We have only two more chapters to go…**


	24. We have a deal

I always knew I had some sadist tendencies in me, but the masochistic part of me surprised me. What else could I call the agony that I willingly put myself through? Looking at her every day in school, while taking care she wouldn't notice I've been looking. Seeing her eyes red with tears and lack of sleep and knowing it was because of me. In the same time, seeing her hips, her waist, her hair, her beautiful face, her lips – knowing I could have it all back if only I had the power to simply stop feeling so betrayed.

God, every time I remember about how stupid I was, I feel a new wave of embarrassment. I mean, it was so obvious, there really was no need to spell it out – she's an exchange student, that means she's gone by the end of the year. Everybody knows that. Everybody except me, apparently. What was I thinking?

After a while, I stopped feeling betrayed, and started feeling…awww God, now that's even more awkward to admit. I started feeling _scared_. Because now I knew she's about to leave soon. So even if I did try to win her back, she'd leave soon anyway, leaving me more.. _heartbroken_ than I already am. I can't believe I just said that. Heartbroken. I don't love her. I don't. Right? I don't do that stuff. It doesn't mean I love her just because I feel like my insides are about to be ripped into thousand pieces once she's really gone.

What didn't help either was that I got word on the street about how the police talked to her again about what I was doing in general, and apparently, she lied her way through the entire ordeal, selling them a story about her "hard and honest-working boyfriend, who also is a great student in school, all the while being ridiculed and excluded and shunned because of his scars". She did all that _after_ I broke up with her. She could have served them my ass on a silver platter. Instead, she made sure they would leave me alone for a while and feel ashamed for pestering me.

So, I spent my days between staring at my wrecked car (she did a really majestic job with it), and creeping after her in school, and staying in my car down her street, wondering if I should just break into her house and hold her and kiss her and fuck her and tie her up and never let her go. That idea – of tying her up and basically keeping her in the country with me by force – is especially tempting. I mean, look at her, how sad and broken she seems after I left her! If we would be together and _stay_ together, we'd both be much happier. So why would I just kidnap her? I'm sure she'd appreciate it in time. …or not?

And then, one evening, I drop by Mike's to see if there's a job for me, and sure enough, there she is, looking all pretty, sitting in the corner with that sleazy Luca. I hate that manipulative side of her. How many times will she try this trick? But things develop fast, and an hour later, I end up killing two guys and confessing my _feelings_ to her, and then I see her beautiful eyes and her beautiful face, with blood splatters here and there, telling me to that she wants exactly what I want.

" _And then you're gonna fuck me so hard that I won't be able to walk for the next three days. And then we're together, ok? No more drama, bullshit, fights. I'm yours and you're mine."_

Now I sit on the edge of her bed, listening to the sounds of her showering. I feel strangely calm and almost empty. I raise my head as I hear her light steps entering the bedroom, and I truly enjoy how beautiful and serene she looks. She drops the towel that was wrapped around her body and slowly lowers herself into my lap, straddling me. I lose no time wrapping my arms around her waist.

We kiss slowly, and I feel myself reacting quickly to her. But, before we take thing further, I need to know.

"For how long?", I ask her. She looks me right in the eyes and asks back:

"For how long do you want?"

"How about forever?", I shoot back.

She smiles at me, and there is sadness in that smile.

"Do you know what you're asking? To leave my family, my friends, all the plans I had for the future…and to stay here, illegally. With no prospect of an education, of getting a good job…I would entirely depend on you. Is that what you want?"

"I want you here. I _need_ you here.", I hope that she understands that this is more than just words.

"Then ask me to stay", she whispers.

"Stay", I whisper back immediately, still holding her in my lap, " _Stay_. Please, stay. Sonja, I…need you to stay."

She kisses me, but I can feel the reluctance in her kiss, and I know that I have to bare my soul and admit to her what I have been actively refusing admitting to _myself_.

"Sonja", I say a bit louder, and my voice breaks a bit, and her eyes instantly jump to mine, and then a lump forms in my throat and I feel like I can't say another word. I see the plead in her eyes and I suddenly understand that she _knows_ what I'm about to say, and that she desperately needs to hear it. The decision that will rule her future depends on whether I'm able to say those few words.

"I love you", I hear myself say and realize I said it without really deciding to say it.

"I love you", I repeat, just to be sure that I said it because I really wanted to say it.

"I really love you", I say it once again, and I sound just the tiniest bit surprised.

She giggles the cutest possible little giggle and then she holds me impossibly close, and I feel so warm and fuzzy inside – I didn't think it was possible.

"I love you too, Jack", she tells me, still giggling and smiling.

She's already busy taking my clothes off, and I don't mind that one bit. She peppers small kisses wherever she can, on my neck, my earlobes, my chest, my fingers, and all the while I feel a unique mixture of happiness and numbness. I guess I'm still shocked by the realization that I do feel love and that I actually said it. Out loud.

My body, however, seems to be working just fine without me, and my dick stands up proudly and more than ready as she is damn close to lower herself on it.

"Wait", I grab her by the waist, holding her up and preventing her of impaling herself on me. I can just feel my dick cursing at me, and my hips give an involuntary little push upwards, but I have to stay the master of my body for just a few more moments. I need to _know_. I need to be _sure_.

Sonja looks at me in confusion but waits patiently.

"Are you staying?", I ask her.

"Yes", she smiles broadly.

"Meaning, you're not going back to Croatia?", I want to be perfectly clear.

"Yes", she smiles again and nods her head, in order to really show me that she's giving me a 100% yes.

"Please continue, then", I grin at her as I release her suddenly and she squeaks as my dick immediately finds his way through her folds. She throws her head back as she finds a fast and rough rhythm, and I grab her ass with both hands to help her maintain it. We both know this isn't to last long, but we have time later on to repeat the act more slowly and with more care. This is basically us gloriously sealing the deal.

"God, Jack, I love you so much", she pants as she rides me hard, "You are worth it, you are so worth it.."

I never knew that words could cause such happiness. I know she means what she has just said, it's sincere. She loves me and she really thinks I'm worth it for her to leave everything behind.

"I will take care of you", I manage to answer, "Just be mine.."

"I'm yours, only yours", she answers and then I feel her orgasm wash over her and I follow her after a few more thrusts.

We fall asleep right after we're done. She's cuddled on my side, and I put my arm protectively around her shoulder. Things couldn't be better as we both dream of the beautiful future that awaits us.

 **A/N: Hey guys, one more chapter and we're done! The next chapter will be much longer and it will be pretty shaky! Major time jump ahead :)**

 **You can expect the next and last chapter during the next week!**


	25. A new life

Our happiness lasted exactly six months and twelve days. It was truly a magnificent time. We were young, we were in love, it was perfect. We woke up every morning together and fell asleep each night in each other's arms. And we were young enough and dumb enough to believe it would last forever.

The entire time I spent in the States, my parents called me exactly three times. I didn't get the impression they exactly missed me. However, when I failed to show up back in Croatia, all hell broke loose, and the police and both embassies were quickly involved.

The cops burst in one morning into our house, right after dawn, and dragged both of us out of bed. Jack fought like crazy and I too tried to wrestle my way out. We had no real chance. That was the last time I saw Jack: half-naked, his mane flying wildly as he's punching a cop right in the face.

I was shipped away instantly. I asked every single person I came in contact with about Jack, where they would be taking him, if I could see him, at least to say goodbye. Nobody said a word.

Back home, I wouldn't talk to my parents. I sat silently through their yelling. Apparently, I was nothing but trouble and embarrassment to them. I wondered why they wanted me back in the first place.

I kept on calling the American embassy in Zagreb, trying to find about what happened to Jack. They wouldn't say anything. I went there personally, a few times, but I found out nothing. That is until a guy working there got extremely fed up with me, and he yelled at me to google "Arkham Asylum" because that's where "my disgusting darling rots", presumably for the rest of his life.

I googled the term and when I found out what that place was, I sobbed for days.

I thought that the constant nausea and occasional abdominal pains were psychosomatic. And then I realized that I'm not sure when I had my last period.

It turned out I was already 4 months pregnant. My parents wanted me to have an abortion, but luckily, it was too late for that. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't give the baby for anything in the world. It was all I had left from Jack. I instantly fell in love with the baby, while still pregnant. I was still very young, only 16, and never even thought about babies and pregnancies, but I immediately felt the need to protect and care for the baby…and to bring it to his father. Sooner or later.

…

Years went by. I finished school and now I have a steady job. I guess some of Jack's preferences rubbed off on me, so I ended up working as a legal consultant in a special crime unit within the police. Something about men who commit violent crimes attracts my interest, and I use every opportunity to talk to criminals. I guess I am trying to understand their way of thinking: that's something that I completely neglected when I was with Jack. I was too young back then, I believe. My priorities were completely different. Only now, when I'm a bit older, I start grasping what a complex individual Jack actually is. He was and hopefully still is much more than just a good looking guy, attractive in his mysterious and brooding ways.

Jackson just turned 16 recently – his father was 16 when we met. I named him Jackson for obvious reasons – he's literally Jack's son. So it's a given.

But it's more than just his name that reminds me every day of Jack. Even as a child, Jackson was not very sociable. He was pretty much drawn into himself and actually only connected with me. He grew up into a tall young man, very handsome (if I as his mom can be objective enough in that matter), with a striking resemblance to his dad, except his lips are a bit fuller - like mine, and he also has a bit darker hair than his dad. But his natural aggressiveness, strength and overwhelming intelligence are definitely his father's. From early on, he showed interest in fighting, so rather than letting him fight in streets with other kids, I pushed him into each and every martial arts class for kids I could find. I always thought I would teach my children not to fight, but knowing whose son Jackson is, I feel as if I would be denying him his actual nature and heritage. So, if he wants to feel pain and cause pain to others, at least he can do it properly and legally, by doing such kinds of sports. I also insisted that he learns to speak English - sooner or later, he would meet his dad. They need to be able to talk.

Jackson rarely asks about his dad. I told him almost everything..well, I left out some parts. Like _murder_. But I let him know that his dad is a bit on the criminal side and that some of his points of view are..unique. I only have a few pictures of Jack, mostly those selfies from Philadelphia that I printed out and framed. I felt quite ashamed when Jackson asked about his dad's scars and I realized that I never asked Jack how he got them. I always thought he would tell me on his own, and he probably would have…if things didn't turn out as they did. We foolishly thought we had all the time in the world.

The idea of finding Jack again, and of course the tremendous love I have for Jackson, is what kept me going all those years. However, no matter how deep I dug, I had no luck finding any trace of Jack Napier. I even contracted an American attorney who actually managed to get access to the files in Arkham – Jack was never mentioned. There was no Jack Napier in police records. There was no Jack Napier even in our school's records. It was as if Jack never existed. I had no way of finding Jack, but I never gave up. I regularly googled Gotham and followed all the news regarding the city. I knew Jack loved that city and was unlikely to leave it. Maybe I would see him in a picture, in the background..maybe he would show up. If he's still alive. This is what bothers me most. With Jack's lifestyle, he could have been shot dead a long time ago. I never shared this fear with Jackson. I never said it aloud, not even to myself.

It is early morning and I am ready for work. I have my beige business suit on and my hair is in a neat bun. Jackson is still sleeping – he is in this typical teenager phase where they can sleep for ages and ages. I have a few extra minutes so I decide to spend them in my usual hobby – drinking coffee in my kitchen and googling Gotham. One story immediately catches my eye, since it is spread all over my phone in big letters:

WORLD EXCLUSIVE

PICTURES NEVER SEEN BEFORE

THIS IS THE JOKER

BATMAN'S NEWEST AND DEADLIEST ENEMY

…AND HE HAS A MESSAGE. BUT FOR WHOM?

I heard about Joker before, I think he claimed responsibility for blowing up some buildings or something like that, but I never saw his face. So, I click on the photo gallery.

The bizarre makeup can't hide his beautiful eyes, and no amount of red greasepaint can make me forget the lips I kissed so often, and I recognize his wild hair, too.

It is Jack.

Jack.

My heart starts beating like crazy.

I don't care about the makeup, I know Jack. This is Jack.

Jack is the Joker? Whatever, he can be the queen of England for all I care.

Jack is alive. Jack is ok, apparently bombing the city and driving everybody insane. I cry and I laugh in the same time.

My Jack. My son's father.

I now completely break down in tears. My entire body shivers and trembles. For so long, I was scared that I was alone, and that he could be dead somewhere. But, he's here. He exists. And I can find him. And I _will_ find him, somehow.

"Mom?", I hear Jackson's sleepy voice. I cover my eyes with one hand and try to wave him off with the other.

"Go back to sleep, sweetie…I'm ok", I try to pretend as if I'm ok.

"Why are you crying? What's going on?", Jackson will not be fooled or ordered around.

"It's just that..", I sigh as tears keep on flowing from my eyes like small waterfalls, and my makeup is completely ruined. Jackson notices my phone in my hand and quickly grabs it.

"Is someone sending you upsetting messages?", he asks and then glances at the screen, "Who's that?"

I don't answer because I can see the realization already forming on his face.

"Is that.. _dad_?", Jackson's eyebrows are so high up they nearly disappear under his hairline.

"Yes", I nod.

"My dad's blowing up Gotham while wearing make up?", Jackson is close to laughing out loud and actually, so am I, even through all my tears.

"Yup.", I nod again.

"Well, you said he was a bit unique", Jackson shrugs his shoulders and puts down the phone. He then turns to make himself some cereal like every morning. He eats his breakfast peacefully as if nothing happened. That kid's got nerves of steel. Another trait of his father's.

In the meantime, I keep on going through all the photos of Jack, or rather of this Joker persona he uses. And then I finally come across the photo that takes my breath away. Jack/Joker stares right into the camera, his facial expression unreadable, but he holds in one hand a piece of paper on which he wrote in big capital letters "COME BACK, COME BACK, WHEREVER YOU ARE", and in the other hand, a Zippo, actually _the_ Zippo, the one with the little Joker, the one I got him all these years ago.

"Jackson, pack your stuff", I immediately say through a fresh wave of tears.

"Now what?", my moody son rolls his eyes.

"Dad wants us home.", I smile and I know things will be all right.

THE END

 **A/N: So here we are, this is the last chapter! How did you like it?**

 **How would you guys feel about a sequel? I'm thinking about it but am not sure yet.**

 **Thank you, guys, again for the favs, follows and reviews! I had a blast with this story and I hope you did, too!**


End file.
